


Designation T.O.N.Y

by theMusicmaniac



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, avengers endgame - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, I will add more tags as the story takes shape, I'll give you one guess who, M/M, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Tony the AI, but one of the people who was dead doesn't stay dead, everyone who was already dead is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 69,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMusicmaniac/pseuds/theMusicmaniac
Summary: ENDGAME SPOILERS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.After the final battle with Thanos, Steve finds himself grief-stricken and listless, deciding to retire and spend his time helping train the next generation of Avengers, slowly healing in the 21st century. But when Steve stumbles across Tony's old lab at the compound two years after the battle, he discovers something that changes everything....“Unit designation confirmed.” A voice chimes, and Steve suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room, like he’s been sucker-punched, because he knows that voice.“Activating, Technological Operating Network Youth, or alternate designation T.O.N.Y.” the voice continues and Steve shakes his head, as blue light flickers, and form in the middle of the room, a perfect 3D rendering of a very familiar hero.“Hello, Steve.” Tony Stark says, and smiles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note/Edit: this chapter has been edited as of June 23, 2019. It's a really minor change, just fixing up something I forgot, but just thought to let y'all know.
> 
> I got the fledgling of this idea from this fabulous fic that I sadly cannot remember the name of(I will credit when I remember because y'all should all go read it), but the point is, it was post infinity war, and everyone was happy and alive, and Tony decided to leave for space exploration so he made an AI of himself for the compound. It was beautiful, but it got me thinking about Endgame and thus this fic was born. 
> 
> Also Tony as an AI. Need I say more?
> 
> Written in Steve's POV

 

 

The battle is over in the split second it takes for a person to blink.

 

It’s utter hell and chaos before it finally happens, all muted yells, and strategy, and desperate scrambling for the upper hand as everyone fights with every single ounce of strength and skill that they’ve got. The fate of the universe balanced on a knife’s edge, the executioner’s axe waiting to fall.

 

And then it all stops. Just like that.

 

There’s a ripple of shock as Steve prepares to swing at the enemy he’s locked in combat with, because he _needs_ to keep fighting, keep that fragile spark of hope alive in his chest. But then, _it_  happens and despite all instinct, he freezes as the disturbance glides right through them, and there’s a moment of utter panic where he thinks _this is it, we blew it, we failed,_ and he shudders like he can feel it, that phantom shifting in his atoms as they all crumble to dust, because this time there would be no quarter from Thanos. A gruesome echo of five years past.

 

But then.

 

Steve looks around in disbelief as Thanos’ army dissolves into the wind, and he can feel the beginning of joy welling in his gut, the pure elation in the knowledge that they’re all safe, they survived, they _won._

 

He turns, weary down to the bones, but still searching, and he doesn’t really know for who at this point, just someone, Thor or Sam or Clint or Bruce or Bucky or Tony, for someone to smile at, to say _we won._

 

But what he sees instead freezes the budding smile on his face.

 

 _No._  

 

There’s Pepper and there’s Peter crouching, and at this point Steve no longer knows who else is there, because his vision has tunneled and blurred with tears, and he walks forward slowly, can feel his limbs going numb with shock, because _no, please no, it can’t end like this, he can’t…_

 

But he does. And there’s nothing Steve can do but watch.

 

* * *

 

 

The day of the funeral dawns bright and gorgeous. Despite the general belief that funerals should be nothing but somber, Steve can’t help but think it’s fitting for Tony’s send off to be on a beautiful morning like this.

 

It’s held at Tony’s cabin by the lake, the place where he’s had so many happy memories with his family, where he got to live out a short normal life before it all went to hell. The whole planet is mourning today, with wakes being held all over the world for the man who had saved them all, had sacrificed everything for them. But for the actual funeral, the gathering is very small. The people closest to him, his friends, family, all those people whose lives Tony had touched.

 

Pepper calls Steve into the living room with the rest of Tony’s family and Steve remembers distantly feeling shocked. He’s never held any illusions that he’s been a part of Tony’s family. Tentative friends maybe. Coworkers yes. Enemies, and Steve doesn’t want to think about that one. But there’s been too much history and pain between them, too many mistakes, for him to be considered anything closer, and the thought hurts like an open wound, infected and festering, but the truth is the truth.

 

“Pepper?” He asks hesitantly when he remains rooted to the spot and she leans forward to tug on his arm. She looks at him with a sad smile and tilts her chin towards the doorway. The meaning is clear, so Steve obediently follows them inside.

 

He watches Morgan’s face when Tony’s video plays, watches father and daughter talk for one last time. Tony addresses the entire room at the beginning, and then talks to each and every one of them there. He sees Pepper wipe away tears, and Rhodey laugh sadly, and Happy staring resolutely down at the couch, jaw clenched, and Peter and Harley barely keeping it together. Steve doesn’t expect it when he’s finally addressed. He looks up and freezes at the exasperated and fond expression on hologram Tony’s face.

 

“Cap.” he says and smiles. “God, what could I possibly say to you. There’s a lot of history between us, old man.” Tony shakes his head, and Steve gives a huff of laughter, despite the tears now streaming down his cheeks. “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch Rogers. Be happy.”

 

And with that Tony says his ending spiel and Steve lets it wash over him, staring almost desperately at the hologram, drinking in this last glimpse of him. At the same time, in a rather contradictory manner, Steve finds himself wishing that Tony’s technology wasn’t quite so advanced and real, because it’s painful and bittersweet to see him there, alive and whole and healthy, and knowing that it’s all an illusion.

 

“Everyone wants a happy ending right? But it doesn’t always roll that way.”

 

Steve watches Morgans face as Tony says his final goodbye, and he feels his heart break all over again for the little girl who doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, but is smart enough to know that this is the end, the last time she’ll see her dad. That he’s not coming back. The grief tightens like a vice at that thought, and Steve feels like he can’t breathe.

 

“I love you 3000.”

 

And with that, the video shuts off, taking the light with it.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve carries the suitcase onto the landing pad after the send off, suited up and ready to return all the stones. Bruce nods at him and then the machine starts up.

 

He zones out slightly as he returns each of the stones, the process routine and kind of tedious. It’s child’s play to place all of them back where they belong, although he finds himself pausing briefly in 2012, to see Tony one last time, smiling and snarking, light and carefree.

 

It takes all his willpower not to walk forward, to stay here in 2012, before everything had gone to shit, and _God_ , Steve hadn’t realized exactly what he _had_ until he lost it, too busy mourning his past, not seeing what was right in front of him. It seems like he’ll just be forever looking back, regretting the choices that he made, awareness and realization happening too little too late.

 

He shakes himself out of the spiral and quickly taps out of the year before he does something inadvisable in his grief.

 

He makes sure the last stop he makes is in 1970, and then he stops all at once, hand poised above the mechanism on his wrist.

 

_“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch Rogers. Be happy.”_

 

He lowers his arm, and goes to find Peggy. He owes her a dance.

 

* * *

 

 

Decades later, or really just two seconds for Bruce, Bucky and Sam, Steve flashes back to the 21st century on the landing pad.

 

Bucky smiles at him sadly, understanding him perfectly without any words exchanged, knowing that Steve had gone back, had visited for that last dance, hugged Peggy and her wonderful husband, said a tearful goodbye.

 

It’s time to stop living in the past. This is his home now.

 

He thoroughly enjoys Sam’s shocked and awed expression when he hands him his shield, and smiles slightly as Bucky slings his arm around Sam’s shoulder, camaraderie replacing their previous hostility.

 

“Congratulations, Captain.” He says with a grin, winking at Steve, and Steve gives a small laugh at that, a little broken maybe, but a laugh nonetheless. He had stayed for two days with Peggy and her husband, catching up, and he found talking it out with her had helped a bit, a soothing balm to the hurt of the final battle. It’s still almost excruciatingly painful, thinking about all those people they lost, thinking about _Tony,_ and at this point Steve doubts it will ever stop, but it no longer feels like a vice tightening on his lungs, choking him.

 

He sits there by the lake afterwards in quiet contemplation, staring down at the clear water, dappled with light and reflecting the gentle sway of the canopy above as a breeze whistles through, calm and peaceful.

 

He listens to people slowly trickle away, saying their goodbyes and leaving with their families, now whole.

 

Steve's glad, and how could he not be? But he knows there will always be a tiny selfish part of him that will think about Natasha and Tony, think about those brief but bright moments in the tower when it had been just the six of them united, and will whisper that the price was too high, that if only he had left it well enough alone, or if he had been a bit faster, a bit stronger, a bit smarter...

 

The whole universe for two people.

 

It scares him a bit, in a similar way as with Bucky, how much that part of him would be willing to give in order to get them back. He’d seen the consequences first hand of letting that portion rule him, had almost lost everything because of it, Tony and the Avengers, and then the universe, so this time he firmly shoves the thoughts to the back of his mind. There’s nothing he can do to change what has passed.

 

Pepper finds him eventually, Morgan asleep in her arms, and it could've been hours or it could have been ten minutes later. Steve's no longer paying attention to his surroundings.

 

"Hey." she says quietly, taking a seat beside him on the bench, shifting Morgan a bit so that she's still sleeping comfortably on her shoulder. Steve turns to look at her, manages to muster up a small smile. "Hi."

 

"How are you holding up?" Pepper asks, worried look on her face, and Steve shrugs slightly, looking back down at his hands.

 

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Steve responds and Pepper shakes her head.

 

"I hardly think that matters." she smiles sadly and then shushes Morgan when she stirs a bit on her shoulder, rocking her gently back to sleep. “I know you loved him Steve. And I loved him, and Morgan did and Rhodey did, and everyone on the Avengers team, and Peter and Harley…” she trails off, and then shakes her head, coming back to herself. “You can’t quantify that. We all lost him, and so we all mourn. Together.”

 

Steve lifts his head up a bit, remembering that distant echo, a long past _then we’ll do that together too._ He struggles to think of something to say, and finally settles on a quiet and subdued “thank you.”

 

Pepper tilts her head curiously, giving motion to the unasked question.

 

“For...for being so kind.” Steve stares hard at the rock piles on the lake shore, watches the shadow deepen as the light fades over the distant horizon. “I didn’t deserve to be welcomed into your family viewing of the video, or really for you to be here comforting me, not after what I did-”

 

“Oh Steve,” Pepper says, pained look on her face, and Steve stops, changing tracks. “-right, I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear that right now _God_ -”

 

“No, no no,” Pepper says, and then shushes him by unceremoniously putting her hand over his mouth. He stares at her. Blinks. She laughs at his stunned expression.

 

“Sorry,” she says, amusement lighting up her eyes, removes her hand before her expression shifts to something more serious. “It’s okay. Look, I’ll admit. I was kind of furious when I had heard what had happened.”

 

Steve snorts. “Kind of.” he says dryly. Pepper smacks him gently on the arm. “Shut up and listen young man, wisdom is being imparted here.”

 

“I thought I was the one who’s the wizened nonagenarian out of the two of us.”

 

Pepper sniffs haughtily, “A lady never shows her age. I’m actually three hundred and twelve years old.” and Steve can’t help but laugh softly along with Pepper at that, because dumb joke it may be, both of them are acutely aware of _that_ fact, but after the emotional turmoil of the last week, Steve’s surprised it doesn’t dissolve into hysterics. The laughter does feel good though, despite that.

 

It peters off into silence, and then Pepper sighs after a couple seconds of contemplation.

 

“Anyways. I was mad yes. I mean of _course_ I was. But I don’t really have any say in that entire situation.”

 

Steve opens his mouth to protest but Pepper shakes her head with a quiet “let me finish.”

 

“I know what you’re about to say Steve, and there’s no need to defend me from self-deprecation, because that’s not what I’m trying to communicate.” she pauses to gather her thoughts. “What I mean is, I can’t be the one to judge you on this, not really, because I’m not Tony, and I’m not any of the Avengers involved in that entire fucked up mess.”

 

Steve gives a huff of amusement.

 

“It was a clusterfuck, don’t pretend otherwise.” Pepper smiles. “I’m an outsider looking in, someone who was close to Tony, who loved him, but in the end, I don’t know the full story of either side, not even Tony’s. You hurt him, and he hurt you, and you all hurt each other. Really I have never met a bunch of individuals more incapable of handling personal relationships, but the point is, I can’t make that judgement. I won’t _let_ myself make that judgement, it’s not my place. It’s Tony’s. _Was_ Tony’s.”

 

And here Pepper sounds a little choked up but still sets a friendly hand on Steve’s shoulder, and all at once, he’s so glad she’s here, and feels horribly guilty for it because she lost her _husband_ and here she is comforting _him._ He doesn’t deserve any of this kindness.

 

“He forgave you Steve, I know he did. And who am I to disagree with him?” Steve laughs softly, ignoring the fact that it comes out a bit wet.

 

“And Tony, Tony was - he -" Pepper breaks off at that, unable to continue, lip trembling, and Steve finds himself putting a comforting arm around her as she breaks down on his shoulder, the strong shell finally cracking.

 

In the days leading up to Tony's funeral, Steve came to admire just how strong Pepper truly is, business face on and spine as strong as steel, dealing with the aftermath and fallout when others were too broken to despite all that she had lost herself, making arrangements, taking care of Morgan, a hurricane of efficiency and productivity, comforting and strong in equal measure. There’s no denying that Tony married one hell of a woman. But he's glad she's getting her chance to truly mourn now that things have calmed.

 

He doesn’t say anything and just sits there quietly, staring at the lake, offering silent comfort, because he gets the sense that soothing words are not really what Pepper wants or needs right now.

 

There isn’t anything to say that would make this better anyways.

 

After a while, Pepper finally straightens, already on her way back to her usual self. She smooths a hand down Morgan’s back and they sit there for a while longer in silence, the lake now beginning to darken to black, fireflies coming out slowly in the warm summer air.

 

“So. Where are you headed to now?” Pepper pauses to wipe at her eyes, tacking on a belated “Captain?” to the end of the question when Steve doesn’t answer.

 

He smiles. “Just plain old Steve Rogers now. I’m no longer a Captain.” Peppers eyebrows shoot up at that and Steve elaborates. “I guess I’m...retired now? If you can even call it that when you’re a 34 year old man who wasn’t even officially a captain in the first place.”

 

Pepper laughs slightly. “Really.”

 

“Propaganda. I really only ran around running missions that involved destroying things, and they gave me a rank because I was really good at it.” Steve shrugs. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do now really. I’m probably gonna go back to what's left of the compound, help rebuild maybe. Train some of the up and coming Avengers. The world doesn’t really need me specifically anymore, so who knows?”

 

Pepper nods in understanding. “Well then, plain old Steve Rogers,” she emphasizes the title by raising her eyebrows at him again. Morgan mumbles in her sleep, and Pepper smooths a hand down her back again, shifting her hold on her in preparation to stand.

 

“You’re welcome to crash in one of the guest bedrooms here,” she says, getting up with a grunt and a muttered “I’m getting too old for this”. Steve hides his smile, but shakes his head slightly.

 

“I couldn’t impose on you-”

 

“Nonsense.” Pepper interrupts with a decisive look. “It’s already dark out and it’s been a long and exhausting day, there’s no reason for you to make the hour trip back to the compound when there’s room here.” Pepper raises a challenging eyebrow when Steve doesn’t move.

 

“Hop to it Rogers, left right left, come on.” and Steve gets up with a sheepish smile, and follows Pepper and Morgan inside.

 

Later on, he sits in the bay window of the guest room instead of the bed once Pepper gets him settled. He finds he can’t sleep, so he watches the glittering drift of moonlight over the surface of the water, the gentle sway of the trees, because it’s infinitely better than tossing and turning on the sheets, the final battle and the look on Tony’s face as he fades replaying behind his eyelids everytime he tries to rest, tears staining the pillow. So he sits there, resolutely keeping his eyes open and finally drifts off in the early hours of the dark morning with the light of the stars printed behind his eyelids, burning cold and too bright, watching over from their place in the sky.

 

His sleep is restless, but at least he doesn’t dream.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve ends up staying for quite a long while with Pepper and Morgan, which honestly had not been a part of his initial plans. Like, at all. But he can’t say he’s unhappy with the arrangement.

 

He helps out around the house, essentially being a live-in housekeeper in an attempt to find something, _anything_ to do to take his mind off things. He would return to avenging if there is a need for him, but after half of life on Earth had been restored by the Avengers, even the supervillains don’t seem keen on causing havoc just yet.

 

So instead he picks up Morgan from school when she starts kindergarten a year early, drives her to extracurricular activities and babysits when Pepper, Happy and Rhodey are too busy with Stark Industries and the Air Force respectively to do it. He washes dishes and cooks meals, draws in his sketchbook down by the lake (resolutely ignoring the fact that almost all of his pictures seem to turn into a sketch of Tony at some point or another), talks to FRIDAY when he’s the only one in the house and the silence gets oppressive, and life is not exactly good, not with the ache that still echoes behind Steve’s ribs. But it isn’t horrible either.

 

There are happy days, even though they’re rare and far between. It’s when Morgan will come up to him and ask for stories of the Avengers, and Steve will tell her about all those adventures they used to get up to. Or when Peter and Harley visit, which is often, or the rest of the remaining and new Avengers, filling up the house with laughter, a burden shared and halved.

 

But there are still bad days of course. Horrible days really. Days where Steve can barely bring himself to get out of bed, where he just sits by that bay window again with what he can imagine is a thousand yard stare, his mind a million miles away, spiraling almost too fast for his battered body to keep up, exhausted to the bones despite the serum and so he’ll sit there, too weary to move. He buys punching bags with his seventy years of back pay, hangs them in the makeshift gym that the cabin apparently has and systematically destroys them all.

 

Days where he’ll talk to FRIDAY, and really, he knows she’s an AI and everyone will say that she can’t feel emotions, but he’ll hear it anyways in her tone of voice and he’ll _know_ that she’s hurting, that she’s mourning as well, computer program be damned.

 

There are days where Pepper will see a trinket or a tool of some sort sitting around and will break down, shattered glass and crying on linoleum floors, and Steve, Happy and occasionally Rhodey will be there, to try and pick up the pieces despite how broken they are themselves.

 

There are days where Morgan will grow reserved, quiet and contemplative, nothing like the cheerful and bright kid she is usually. She’ll shut herself in her room and if Steve’s the one to go call her to eat he’ll sometimes find her sitting on her bed, staring at a photo album, quietly crying, and it’s those days where Steve truly feels his heart shatter, at his utter inability to help shield this little girl from the hurt of a parent who won’t ever return.

 

There are days when Steve will find Happy obsessively checking over his firearms, checking over security, checking over everything because that’s what he does, and Steve gets it, that itch underneath your skin to do something, because you couldn’t do enough before.

 

When Rhodey comes to visit, there will be times that he’ll freeze and have to leave the room, leave the house even, go down and stand by the lake to recover, and it’s hours and hours before he even manages to crack a smile again.

 

Steve gets closer to Pepper, Morgan, Happy and Rhodey inevitably, because you can’t live through those terrible days together, leaning on each other, healing slowly, without feeling a kinship. He knows them now, truly knows them like he hadn’t before, and tries to help out where he can, tries to heal.

 

It’s a work in progress. For all of them.

 

* * *

 

 

“Uncle Steve?” a small voice calls from the stairwell one evening and Steve looks up from the book he’s reading to see Morgan clinging to the rungs of the stairs. Pepper is working late at the office today with Happy (who had been staying over more and more as well) so he had put Morgan down for the night, which apparently hadn’t stuck.

 

“Hey there kiddo.” Steve shuts his book quietly and gestures at Morgan to come over. “Why aren’t you asleep? You’ve got a big day at school tomorrow. Your mom says you’re going to the Science centre for a field trip, aren’t you?”

 

Morgan plops herself down next to Steve on the couch and sniffles quietly, so he waits patiently for her to open up if she wants to. Finally, Morgan looks up at him.

 

“Daddy used to say he’d take me there one day to see the exhibits.” She says quietly, and Steve abruptly feels like he just got punched in the gut. She’s so smart, she’s Tony’s daughter so _of course_ she is, and she understands and remembers more than most, but at the same time she’s still just a kid and she’s _so young_. Steve hurts for her, at how unfair everything is.

 

“Oh honey,” he whispers as Morgans face scrunches up, and she starts crying, small sobs that break his heart all over again. She flings herself at Steve, who obligingly pulls her into a hug, setting aside his book, tears welling up in his own eyes. But no, he can’t let her see them, he has to stay strong.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay Morgan, it’s okay, everything will be okay…” Steve continues to mumble nonsense as Morgan cries herself out on his shoulder, finally dozing off in her exhaustion.

 

He slowly gets up from the couch and carries her back to her bedroom, tucking her into bed. He hears a faint, “Uncle Steve?” when he goes to turn off the lights and turns to see Morgan awake again.

 

“Shh, it’s okay, go to sleep Morgan.” Steve says quietly, crouching down next to the bed, but she shakes her head.

 

“Can you tell me a story?” she asks quietly, “a-about daddy?” and Steve smiles sadly, dragging up a chair.

 

“Of course.” and Steve begins talking, recounting all the amazing things Tony had done, dragging up as many funny stories as he possibly can, and he smiles when he finally manages to get Morgan to laugh. When he goes to leave, she grabs his hand in quite a strong grip for a kid, and Steve understands it for what it is, an unspoken plea to not be left alone, one that Steve remembers giving himself as a sickly child, looking out of the window with his mother by his side as the doctors told him he was going to die.

 

Steve stays for hours after Morgan’s grip on his hand had gone slack with sleep, staring out of the window at the glittering lake where they gave Tony his final send off, lost in thought.

 

As days go, it’s not the worst. Not unbearable. But it’s definitely not one of the good ones either.

 

* * *

 

The days turn into weeks turn into months.

 

Slowly, they all recover, and soon the good days start to equal and maybe even outnumber the bad.

 

So it’s on one cool morning in early February when Steve wakes up and looks out of the window at the frozen lake and fresh snow, and realizes the idea of the Avengers compound without Natasha or Tony in it isn’t as unbearable as it had been before. It still hurts, but less.

 

He taps his hand distractedly in a steady rhythm, thinking. He was hiding before, there’s no use in denying that. Hiding and shirking responsibility, when all the rest of them had picked up and managed to continue on functioning, and he hadn’t.   

 

He finally gets up and starts slowly packing up his things. It’s time to go back.

 

He goes downstairs and makes a huge breakfast, to thank Pepper, Morgan and Happy for everything they’ve done for him, for being so amazing and letting him stay. He tells them when they all sit down to eat, and there are tears, but Pepper just looks at him proudly and Happy smiles and says “it’s about time” and Morgan makes him pinky promise to visit often.

 

He gets shushed aggressively by all three of them when he tries to thank them, with Morgan giggling impishly in the background at Pepper’s following “Shut _up_ Steve, you’ve helped out enough around the house that I feel like I should be paying _you_ , I don’t want to hear another word.”

 

And then there are tearful goodbyes, (Steve taking care to say one to FRIDAY as well), and he tunes up his bike that he hadn’t used in months, and leaves. Just like that.

 

He almost gives Bucky a heart attack when he finally arrives back at the compound.

 

Hey it’s not _his_ fault. Steve’s still authorized to access it, and it’s not like the place has a doorbell to ring, it isn't really somewhere meant to be accessible to people _without_ authorization, so Steve quietly lets himself in after parking his bike in the hangar.

 

He wanders a bit through the familiar halls of the compound, rebuilt to how it was before, and can't really find anyone at the moment, short of sticking his head into people's bedrooms, which he figures is a bit rude, so he heads for the communal kitchen instead. He could call someone, but he doesn't really have a cell phone on him at the moment, there wasn't a need for one at Pepper's, they have a landline. So instead he settles down at a corner of the counter to wait. He figures someone is bound to show up at some point.

 

And lo and behold, someone does.

 

Steve watches his best friend enter and stumble around the kitchen for a minute, half-asleep and for once unaware of his surroundings before clearing his throat to make his presence known.

 

Bucky jumps a mile in the air with a shout and simultaneously chucks a container of yogurt at Steve's head automatically, which he catches with ease.

 

Steve smirks at him.

 

“Punk.” Bucky grunts at him in that way Steve knows means he's happy to see him. Bucky grabs another yogurt and two spoons, sliding the second one over to Steve as he sits down. “So, you're finally back?”

 

Steve shrugs with a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

 

“Well it's about fucking time.” And Steve laughs at the echo of Happy's words.

 

“Just so you know,” Bucky says absently as he eats his yogurt, “I don't think Sam's letting go of that shield anytime soon, think that thing has become his security blanket.”

 

Steve raises an eyebrow, amused at the mental image, but shakes his head. “Not looking to get the shield back. I'm not Captain America anymore, I'm just-”

 

“Plain old Steve Rogers from Brooklyn, we get it.” Bucky recites with an air of long suffering, and Steve finally peels back the wrapper on his yogurt, rolling his eyes.

 

“Shut up and eat your yogurt,” he mutters, and ignores Bucky's offended grunt.

 

It's good to be home.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky tows Steve around the compound after that, saying hello to people and letting them know they're back while simultaneously catching up with each other on current events. Steve talks to Bucky often enough, but it's not the same over the phone.

 

Eventually, they settle in the communal living area, where they're finally joined by Sam, who gives Steve a warm hug in greeting and smacks Bucky up the back of his head before settling on the couch.

 

Bucky kicks Sam in retaliation, but Steve can tell neither of them really mean it. It's the camaraderie born of people who are close friends and have become attuned and accustomed to working together.

 

“So,” Steve says, watching the two of them try and smack each other with a small smile. “How's the team doing?”

 

“Pretty well, considering our fearless leader retired,” Sam says, stopping his poking of Bucky’s shoulder and giving Steve a dry look. Steve shrugs in response, innocent smile plastered on his face.

 

“Who me?” he asks, and Bucky chucks a pillow at his face, which he dodges with a laugh, dropping the innocent-wide-eyed expression.

 

Sam gives him a considering look. “We should have a small celebration, now that you’re back,” and Steve can feel himself stiffening slightly.

 

“I don’t think there’s a need to go that far,” he says quietly, keeping his tone light, but Sam and Bucky look at him worriedly anyways, both catching the sudden tension. Steve doesn’t need a celebration for his return to a functional human being. He should’ve done it months ago, and it doesn’t feel like a triumph.

 

“It wouldn’t just be for you punk,” Bucky finally says fondly, shaking his head. “After everything, we all need an excuse to relax and get together again.” Sam nods in enthusiastic agreement from beside Bucky as he gives Steve a hopeful smile. Bucky even goes as far as pouting and batting his eyelashes in an over dramatic fashion, and the tableau is so ridiculous with Bucky aggressively blinking and Sam aggressively nodding that Steve has to laugh.

 

“Alright,” He says, rolling his eyes, “if you guys can manage getting things together on such short notice, than fine.” and then he laughs as Sam gives a loud whoop and high fives Bucky.

 

From there on, he’s towed all throughout the compound as they make phone calls, drag Bruce and Scott out of the lab, drag Wanda out of her room, and order food. Steve makes sure to extend the invitation to Pepper, Happy, Rhodey and Morgan as well, but they can’t make it since they’re preparing to head to SI(Rhodey’s still on duty as well), so Steve shrugs, promises to visit (because Morgan is enthusiastically shouting things at him in the background while Pepper laughs), and moves onto the next person to invite.

 

Once the afternoon comes around, people start showing up, Peter, Ned and Aunt May, Harley, Clint and Laura with their kids Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel, Hope and Cassandra, Dr. Strange with Wong, and finally Valkyrie. It’s the only people who are currently on Earth, or not otherwise occupied with running a country (save for Valkyrie) or company, but it’s still more than Steve expected, and so he feels a deep sense of happiness and calm as he greets people as they come in. There are hugs all around, and then everyone goes to get food, sitting down in the expansive living room, talking.

 

Steve ends up in conversation with Peter, Ned and Harley after he talks a bit with Aunt May. It’s exceedingly interesting because Steve goes to shake Ned’s hand when Peter introduces him to Steve and Ned blurts out an awed, “Wow, you’re _so much_ cooler than your PSA videos” and then promptly turns a bright red.

 

Steve blinks at him as Peter and Harley howl with laughter, and Aunt May snorts from where she’s listening in from her position on the couch.

 

“Oh geez, _those_ things.” he says, laughing as Ned tries to suffocate himself with a pillow. “Are they still playing it?”

 

Peter nods, still laughing. “I don’t know about you man,” he says, directing the first part to Harley. “Since we don’t go to the same school, but our gym teacher basically pulls out those videos at every single opportunity. He brings out a TV with a tape.”

 

Steve blinks. “People still _use_ those?? They’re so old!” which apparently proves to be too much for May, coming from a relic from the 1940s, who starts dying of laughter, and goes to grab some more food, giving Steve a friendly pat on the shoulder as she passes by.

 

“Just so you know,” Harley begins, turning to Steve, “I used to get in trouble a lot at my school. I essentially sat through a _life-time’s_ worth of ‘So you got detention’ and I would live long and happy knowing I never have to hear another of those things again in my life.” and Steve laughs in good humour at the disgruntled look on Harley’s face.

 

“Duly noted.” he says. Harley squints suspiciously at Steve. “In fact, at this point I half expect you to grab a chair, turn it around backwards and start lecturing me.”

 

Steve shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, I guess you never know. When you gotta PSA, you gotta PSA.” he gives the three of them the blandest smile he can muster and Harley makes a grunting noise, pointing at Steve.

 

“There it is, that PSA smile, the face of pure evil.” and Steve laughs along with the three of them.

 

“If you thought watching them was bad,” Steve starts, raising an eyebrow at them, “try _filming_ them.”

 

“How so?” Ned asks, seemingly over his momentary embarrassment. Steve shrugs, “Couldn’t keep a straight face.” he says simply, “did you guys see the one about a hot lunch? God, the director looked like he wanted to punch me by the end because I _could not_ stop laughing.”

 

“Oh, oh, oh,” Peter says, bouncing a little on his toes, before setting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest in an exaggerated manner. “You mean the one that goes ‘Hi, I’m Captain America, whether you’re a student or a soldier,’” deepening his voice when he starts quoting.

 

“‘There’s one thing that will always give you an edge’” Ned continues along with Peter.

 

“‘A hot lunch!’” Harley, Ned and Peter finish in a chorus, all three of them with hands on their hips in classical Captain America poses, and then they burst into laughter at the expression on Steve’s face.

 

“Well you all seem like you’re having fun here,” Bucky calls from behind Steve, and he whirls around.

 

“Save me, these children are evil.” is all Steve says, which sets off another round of laughter.

 

“No chance punk,” Bucky gives him a shit-eating grin, and punches him on the shoulder, turning to Ned, Peter and Harley. “Those PSA’s are dirty _lies_ , you hear me? ‘Take it from a guy who’s been frozen for 65 years, the only way to really be cool is to follow the rules’” Bucky quotes easily and Steve gapes. “Steve has never followed a rule in his _damned life_.”

 

“Has _everyone_ watched those stupid PSA’s?!” Steve asks loudly, flailing his arms a bit. There’s a moment of silence, and then;

 

“‘We all know what’s right, we all know what’s wrong,’” Lila and Clint shout together suddenly from the other side of the room, evidently having heard Steve’s exclamation.

 

“‘Next time those _turkeys_ try and convince you to something you know is wrong’” Cooper, Cassandra and Nathaniel continue, dramatically throwing themselves across the back of the couch at the word turkey.

 

“‘Think to yourself,’” Harley proclaims loudly, raising his arms, thoroughly familiar with the detention video. “‘What would Captain America do???’”

 

The room dissolves into laughter, the shouting having gained the attention of everyone, and Steve throws his arms up.

 

“I hate you all.” He announces to the room at large, hiding a smile, and goes to get another beer, the sound of good natured ribbing following him to the dining table.

 

“Can’t escape it Steve,” Lila says with an amused smile, appearing at Steve’s elbow as he flicks the bottle cap off and tosses it into the trash.

 

“Yup, those videos are played pretty much everywhere in American schools.” Cassandra comments. “ _Such_ fond memories.”

 

“I don’t even go to school and I know it,” Clint comments as he passes by them to enter the kitchen and Steve rolls his eyes at Clint’s shit-eating grin.

 

Steve then turns and raises an eyebrow at all the younger Avengers and co. that have now gathered around him at the dining table.

 

“And I suppose I should be worried about the fact that all of you seem to be thoroughly familiar with the _detention_ video in particular?” he says, purposely giving him all a disapproving look.

 

“Oh no,” Cooper says. “He’s got that look in his eye.”

 

“Quick, hide all the chairs!” Harley wails, and they dissolve into laughter again, Steve included this time.

 

As they all trickle back to the living room, Steve hangs back a bit, and watches them, this room of people he cares about, and the young and bright minds that are Earth’s future, all talking and laughing and alive, and he feels immeasurably warm and content, the darkness and grief farther from him than they’ve ever been in the many months after the battle.

 

“You okay?” a voice asks, and Steve turns to see Bruce, who Steve hadn’t noticed had ducked into the kitchen, carrying some more platters of food. Clint’s behind him, arms laden with drinks, and he gives Steve a slight grin from around the Bruce’s considerable bulk.

 

“Never better,” Steve responds, and follows Bruce and Clint back into the fray.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter grunts when Steve tosses him to the training mat, having finally managed to throw him with a well executed take-down.

 

It’s been a week since the welcome back party, and Steve has settled into life at the compound, concentrating mainly on training up the younger Avengers at the moment. Younger Avengers meaning Peter, Harley and occasionally Wanda.

 

Steve knows Harley doesn’t have any particular superpowers, but he’s already applied to SHIELD as a possible agent, and Steve is adamant to recruit him as one of the Avengers, considering his intellect and level of capability. He sees no reason for Harley not to be given the same opportunity as Peter, considering he’s probably going to throw himself into danger at SHIELD anyway, but Steve will be damned if he doesn’t train them properly before letting them into the field. Being only human doesn’t change a thing. It’s never stopped Clint, Natasha or Tony, so Steve doesn’t let it change his considerations, although he does make sure to go a little easier on Harley when training him up.

 

“Better,” Steve says, smiling and helping Peter up, who seems slightly winded. “Why don’t you take fifteen, and then we’ll come back and keep going.” and Peter nods, darting off to get some water.

 

“Harley,” Steve then calls, and Harley looks up from where he’s been typing away on his phone in his gym clothes, half paying attention to Peter and Steve’s sparring match. “You’re up champ.” and Harley gets up with an excited grin, stepping onto the mats.

 

“You’re going down, old man.” Harley smirks at him, and Steve feels a well of fondness for the kid, at how similar Harley’s brand of snark is to Tony’s.

 

Both Peter and Harley are remarkable young people, and when Steve had first heard their stories, a part of him(what Clint had often dubbed the “mother hen instinct”) had wanted to wrap the both of them in blanket burritos and buy them chocolate. Steve tries to keep a rein on that part of him, because he’s sure babying them won’t go over well for either kid, but he still tries his best to be as supportive as possible, and teach them to the best of his ability. He sees the future when he looks at them, a next generation of bright young minds and hope, and he can’t wait to see them flourish and grow.

 

Steve says none of this however, and simply smirks back at Harley, darting in for the first move as Peter cheers them on from the sidelines.

 

* * *

 

 

It's one of the bad days. They have been getting fewer and farther between, but they’re still there, occasionally popping up when Steve least expects it, catching him off guard.

 

Luckily, Steve hadn't scheduled any training today, and his morning was pretty free, so he had no prior obligations to drag himself out of bed for.

 

He sits there shaking on top of the sheets, leaning heavily on the headboard, trying to get his head in order, and his breathing under control.

 

The nightmare had him chasing after them, always a step behind, always too late, knowing they're about to die, that inescapable knowledge pushing behind each step, steady beat of _faster, run faster_ , muscles screaming, but too late every time. And then the accusing looks, from Natasha, and Tony, their mangled bodies, _why didn’t you save us._ Logically Steve knows there was next to no blood in their actual deaths. That doesn’t stop him from feeling like his hands are covered with it.

 

Steve puts his head on his knees and desperately tries to regulate his breathing. _In two-three-four, out-two-three-four, in-two-three-four._

 

Eventually, his breathe stutters and evens out slowly, and instead of the full on panic, there is only him on the sweaty bed-sheets, damp with tears and shaking like a leaf. He shivers, cold, despite the temperature regulated compound.

 

Steve drags himself out of bed into the shower and turns the water to the hottest setting he can stand, and he stays there for a long while, trying to erase the tendrils of the dream from his mind.

 

There is no Jarvis, no Friday in the compound after Tony had moved her to his house by the lake, to notice the fact that his shower has been running for almost an hour and a half now, to notice that Steve’s barely moving, just leaning heavily against the wall, to call for help. He finds himself glad and immediately guilty for it, because he doesn’t want to be found by anyone right now, wants to stand here where the almost boiling water beats down on him. He’s still so cold.

 

He exits eventually, dresses and wanders around the compound listlessly, avoiding any human company. He stops briefly in the gym and goes at the punching bag for a bit, but he thinks about Natasha training on the sparring mat, agile and beautiful and deadly, and he thinks about Tony designing the equipment, handsome face set with determination and eyes sparkling because he’s always loved designing his machines, making the laws of physics bend to his will, and Steve finds the place is too full of ghosts for him to stand. He leaves, and goes back to wandering around.

 

He manages to avoid Sam and Bucky when he hears them coming down the hall, too engrossed in their own conversation to hear Steve dart into an empty room quickly to avoid them.

 

There’s something to be said about the former Captain America hiding in a high-tech storage closet in order to avoid human interaction.

 

Steve keeps walking around.

 

He freezes suddenly, when he somehow ends up in a very familiar hallway. It doesn’t hit him at first, just exactly where he is, because the place itself is rather unassuming, all polished linoleum floors and fluorescent lights, but Steve isn’t interested in the decor of the place. It’s the high tech door set into the wall in the middle of the hallway, one with a variety of sensors and scanners.

 

Tony’s lab.

 

Steve supposes there’s not much information to go from, but from what he can see, the doors look undisturbed. He knows Tony had worked on Stark Industries inventions and the Iron Man armour quite a lot from here after he had come back out of retirement around the time of their fall-out up until the final battle.

 

He finds himself walking forward to stand in front of the lab doors. The place is probably dark and empty now, locked.

 

Steve had always known Tony’s labs had been his heart and soul, if it ever were to be described by a room, a place where he was truly happy, casually designing wonders that would change the landscape of the modern world. It makes him ache to know that it’s empty of all life and light, because it’s owner is gone, never to return.

 

Steve jumps when a scanner suddenly activates, sweeping blue light across him before he can react.

 

“Scan complete. Captain Steve Rogers, confirm voice recognition and handprint.” an unfamiliar computerized voice announces. And Steve freezes as the scanner for the handprint lights up, waiting for him to place his palm there and open the doors.

 

He backs up until he hits the opposite wall.

 

_No._

 

It isn’t his place. This isn’t a liberty he can take, not even when Tony’s gone, because it’s still _his_ space, even though he’s no longer around to claim it. Steve won’t intrude on this little bit of privacy, despite how much he wants to open the doors anyways, see the familiar screens and Iron Man suits one last time, even though he knows it might just rip at the wounds even further. He somehow feels like it would be a _horrible_ betrayal, even though logically he knows that makes no sense. Logic has shit to do with it.

 

He won’t. He _can’t_.

 

Steve runs away before the computer can prompt him for confirmation again, and he doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

 

He tries to return to his normal routine in the next few days, forces himself to keep going despite the fact that his mind is a million miles away.

 

Keep marching soldier.

 

Bucky notices immediately, if you go by the increasingly worried looks he keeps throwing at Steve, but he doesn’t comment on it for the time being, which Steve is grateful for.

 

So he trains with Peter, Harley and Wanda, and anyone else who wishes for a few pointers here and there, and he goes for runs in the morning with Sam, who also frowns at him worriedly, and he checks in on Bruce to make sure he eats food when he’s working in the lab.

 

He visits Clint, and somehow it helps a bit, because despite his cheerful disposition at the party, Clint is also still grieving, with his good and bad days and all the ups and downs. Laura and the kids are out at the moment, gone for the day for a birthday party at a friend’s house, so Steve sits with Clint on his couch, TV open and playing, but being ignored by the both of them in favour of talking it out.

 

“I’m pretty sure it won’t ever stop hurting,” Clint says at one point, picking at the label of his beer. “When I lost them-” and Steve knows without prompting that Clint means his family, “-it hurt so much at times I thought I was going to shake apart with it. I did horrible things in that time because I was just _so angry_ and I had next to nothing left to lose. Natasha saved me.”

 

Steve puts a hand on Clint’s shoulder when his eyes well up. His voice is hoarse when he continues.

 

“And this hurts just as much to be honest, because Natasha is probably the one person who knows me - _knew_ me, better than anyone else I can think of, and I knew her and I doubt there even is a word for what we were. At the beginning I just kept wondering if I had traded one for the other, the fact that she sacrificed herself so that I could return to my family, if I was horrible for it, being happy when Laura, Cooper, Lila and Nathaniel returned-”

 

“Don’t,” Steve interrupts, and he feels something fierce well up, “ _don’t_ feel guilty because you’re happy to see your family alive and well Clint, don’t you _ever,_ it is not your fault-”

 

“I know Steve,” Clint interrupts with a grateful smile. “It took me a while and a lot of yelling from Laura for me to realize that. That it’s not my fault. Natasha made her choice and I should respect it.”

 

“She’d beat your ass if she were here,” Steve laughs wetly.

 

“Yeah, she would.”

 

They stare at the TV for a while in silence before Clint continues quietly.

 

“I was so angry too, y’know, after her death. The same way I was after the first snap, but I kept it in because I knew we had a job to do, so I directed it instead, and I thought that would be it after we finished the final battle, that we wouldn’t lose anyone else. Naive, I’ll admit, but I wanted it to be true.”

 

Steve stares down at his hands. “But then we lost Tony.”

 

Clint nods, “and it only made it worse, with the both of them gone. I had my family to look after, I had everything to lose, but sometimes, for a brief second, I would wish I could go on a mission or something, to let all that anger and pain out, and I’d feel guilty for it for hours afterwards. But I kept thinking about what Natasha had done, the lengths she had gone to drag me back from the edge after the snap and then the fucking cliff. It made things easier, made it simpler to do the right thing, to ignore that side of me, because how could I ever do anything else?”

 

Steve nodded in understanding. “Natasha told me once, about how she had felt about the Avengers, how it made her better, how she was still trying to _be better_ , even with it gone.”

 

Clint snorts, and wipes at his eyes. “I don’t know what the fucking hell she was talking about. She was always the best. The best out of the two of us even if she couldn’t see it.”

 

They fall silent again.

 

“I ended up in front of Tony’s lab a couple days ago.” Steve comments quietly, and Clint looks over at him, knowing the significance of that statement without prompt.

“And?” he asks quietly.

 

“I panicked when the door asked me for a handprint confirmation and ran away.” Steve picked up his beer from the coffee table and drank a bit.  

 

Clint huffs, “Of course Tony gave you access,” he laughs sadly, “God I miss him.”

 

Steve stops at Clint’s words and looks over at him curiously. “What do you mean of course Tony gave me access? Do you...do you guys not? Have?”

 

Clint shakes his head at Steve, bemused. “Did Tony give all of us illegal fugitives access to his top secret lab after we beat each other up in an airport? Um no. You though? I’m not that surprised. You two have always had a complicated relationship.”

 

Steve sat there in silence, stunned. Clint gives him a sad look, and pats Steve on the arm.

 

“Don’t think too hard on it man. Tony always cared about you, even when you guys were on opposite sides, the same way you always cared about him. Pretty sure if you had a secret lab to lock up, you would’ve given him free reign of it too, just in case he ever needed it.”

 

Clint takes another sip of his beer, staring out of his window, unaware of how Steve’s mind is reeling.

 

“He probably just forgot to change it,” Steve mutters to himself quietly. Clint snorts.

 

“Have you _met_ Tony? Does he seem like the type to just ‘forget’” Clint does air quotes around the word to emphasize it. Steve has to admit he has a point there.

 

“How are things going with Lila’s archery?” Steve says instead, and Clint gives him a knowing look, but allows him to change the subject anyways.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve visits Pepper, Morgan and Happy (who seems to be living there permanently now) a few days later. Morgan almost bowls him over from sheer surprise when she runs out from the house and flings himself full force at him as Steve’s getting off his motorcycle.

 

“Uncle Steve! Uncle Steve!” She giggles as Steve picks her up and swings her around.

 

“Whoa there,” he laughs as she tries to climb onto his shoulders like a limber monkey. “You’re getting too big even for a supersoldier to pick up,” he teases, as he walks towards Pepper, who’s watching them with an amused smile. It’s a Saturday, so she’s home from SI.

 

Morgan gasps in that overly dramatic way that five year olds do. “Am not!” she yells, bouncing a bit from where she’s situated in Steve’s arms. He quickly puts a hand on her back so he doesn’t drop her. “I’m the tiniest person there is, so you can carry me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

 

Pepper laughs, “Surely not _forever_ ,” she says, beckoning Steve into the house, “how would Steve ever get anything done? And you wouldn’t ever get to play with your friends again would you?”

 

Morgan scrunches up her nose in thought, before nodding decisively.

 

“You can carry me sometimes,” she says magnanimously, patting Steve on the head. Steve laughs, and sets her gently back down on the floor.

 

“Why thank you Morgan, I’m honoured.”  

 

Happy gets up from where he’s watching a news report on the couch to greet Steve with a smile and a hug, Steve says a quick hello to FRIDAY, and then Pepper ushers all of them into the kitchen to eat lunch. It’s pleasant, laughing and talking with them again, with Morgan interjecting with everything she’s learned at school happily every few seconds. She seems to have inherited Tony’s genius intellect, already miles ahead of all of her classmates.

 

Afterwards Morgan shouts about going down to play at the lake, so Happy follows her as she runs out the back door.

 

“I’ll let you two ladies talk,” he says teasingly with a smirk at Steve, who rolls his eyes in good humour. Pepper sticks her tongue out at Happy, and he laughs as he heads out the back door as well.

 

Steve helps her clear out the table after and wash the dishes, and then Pepper prepares coffee and sets down a plate of cookies on the table. They sit for a while and talk, arguing about how to eat oreos and dunking them in coffee.

 

“So,” Pepper says, taking a bite of the oreo as it is, which Steve argues is treasonous. “How goes things at the compound?”

 

Steve shrugs, “Running smoothly as always. Peter and Harley are progressing very quickly. I’m really proud of how fast they’ve learned, although Peter tells me he’s probably going on a vacation soon, so he’ll be absent for a while.”

 

Pepper nods happily. “Good. Kid deserves it.” and Steve hums in agreement.

 

“Wanda’s training is kind of above my pay grade,” Steve continues, and Pepper laughs, “although I have been teaching her hand to hand combat, just in case anything were to ever happen.”

 

“And the others?” Pepper prompts, taking a sip of her coffee.

 

“Well, I think Scott is just traveling with his family right now, although he checks in every once and a while. Clint’s doing okay, still grieving a bit, but then again, we all are.” he says, smiling ruefully when Pepper pats him on the arm.

 

“Bruce is. Well Bruce, he’s working nonstop in the lab again,” Steve chuckles, “he’s not as bad as Tony was, but sometimes he also forgets to eat, so I bring him stuff from the kitchen.” Pepper laughs, and it’s still tinged with sadness, but it’s overshadowed by fond memories.

 

“Sam and Bucky have kind of formed a sort of two-person team I think, Captain America and The Winter Soldier. They seem to be getting along a lot better now.” Steve picks up another oreo. “Thor video calls sometimes when he’s able to. Still arguing with Quill, so nothing has really changed there. Rocket seems to find it amusing. He and Groot have started eating snacks when it happens according to Mantis. Oh!” Steve perks up, eager to be the bearer of good news.  “Did you know Mantis and Drax are together now?”

 

Pepper gasps, “ _Nooo,_ you’re _kidding me_!”

 

“Nope, it’s all true, they’re dating.” Steve returns smugly, and Pepper awws a bit at the mental image of them finally finding each other. “I’m happy for them,” and Steve nods.

 

“Carol still traveling around?” Pepper asks after she finished cooing.

 

“Yes as far as I know, although she is visiting more often, and goes to see Director Fury whenever she can. It’s kind of hilarious, the few times I’ve been down to the new Shield headquarters she’s there causing havoc with Goose.”

 

Pepper grins, self-satisfied. “I ran into her once.” and Steve squints at her suspiciously. “Why,” he begins slowly, “do you look so smug?”

 

“I asked her how Director Fury lost his eye.” she says, taking another sip of her coffee casually and Steve freezes.

 

“Tell me.” he says, his voice deadly calm.

 

“Oh, I dunno Steve, not sure if you can handle it. Besides, Carol told me in confidence y’know, wouldn’t want to break her trust.”

 

“Tell. Me.”

 

Pepper takes another long sip of her coffee and lets Steve sit in suspense because she’s kind of evil like that.

 

“The Flerken.” she finally says.

 

“The heck is a Flerken?” There’s an amused twinkle in Pepper’s eye that Steve hasn’t seen in a while.

 

“Goose.” is all she says, and Steve freezes, can feel his brain shutting down and rebooting.

 

“That son of a bitch.” he breathes and she raises an eyebrow at him. “That _son of a bitch,_ ‘the last time I trusted someone I lost an eye’ my star spangled _ass_ !” Steve yells angrily and Pepper starts laughing so hard she almost falls off the chair. “I’ve been trying for _years_ to figure out what the fuck happened to that jackass’ eye and all this time it was a goddamned _cat-_ ”

 

“Flerken,” Pepper corrects, giggling.

 

“-melodramatic _bitch,_ ” Steve fumes, and Pepper hiccups a weak, _“language”_ through her laughter as she wheezes into her coffee.

 

Steve glares at her, “Oh don’t _you_ start too.” which just sets her off into another round of laughter that eventually Steve joins in on.

 

They calm down after that, the afternoon seeming all the brighter for their laughter, and Pepper tells Steve all about Morgan’s progress in school and events at SI.

 

“How’s Rhodey doing?” Steve asks curiously. They’ve finished all the oreos, so Steve has started fiddling with the plate.

 

“Oh you know, busy as always.” Pepper says, smiling fondly. “Serving the country, and all of that ish.”

 

Steve smirks at her. “How busy could he really be, being in the chair force and all.” and Pepper smacks him on the arm, telling him to shush. She knows Steve doesn’t mean any of it. He knows how much good Rhodey, and really any soldier does for the country, would never disrespect any of the service they’ve given.

 

“We don’t bring that kind of talk into this house young man,” she laughs giving him a fake stern look, and they go back to discussing mundane things.

 

It’s when they’ve finally finished up their coffee, and Pepper goes to put the cups and plate into the sink that Steve finally brings it up.

 

“So,” he starts hesitantly, leaning against the counter, and Pepper looks over at him curiously. “I was wandering around the compound a week ago. Came across Tony’s lab.”

 

Pepper freezes, understanding immediately, and turns to give him a sad look. “It doesn’t really get easier does it?” and Steve shakes his head.

 

“No. It doesn’t.”

 

"I'm surprised it survived." Pepper says quietly. 

 

Steve is too. He had been shaky when it had first occurred to him that Thanos could have destroyed that portion of the compound. Because despite the fact that the lab is now a horrifying reminder of what was gone, it still hurts to think of losing that reminder of Tony forever. He finds himself so profoundly grateful that one part of Tony had still remained intact from the final battle, that despite the destruction of the compound, the lower levels had remained mostly salvageable, that Tony was paranoid enough to put on fucking  _blast doors_ on his workshop. Steve aches at the thought of what could have been lost, and what could have been cut free, and instead just nods in response to Pepper, who looks at him worriedly.

 

"Did you go in?” Pepper asks casually, no accusation in her tone, and rinses out the coffee cups. Steve looks at her, surprised at her assumption that the lab would unlock for him.

 

“No...no, I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. Pretty much ran the other way.” And Pepper nods.

 

“Did you?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, so he swallows determinedly before continuing, wanting to know what the inside of the lab is like now. “Did you or Rhodey or Happy?” Pepper shakes her head, subdued, and puts away the cups before joining Steve in leaning against the counter.

 

“We all have access I’m pretty sure, but I haven’t been back to the compound since Rescue. That life was always Tony’s, not mine.”

 

Steve shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re a hero as well Pepper.” She pats him on the arm.

 

“Thank you Steve. But being a superhero once is enough for me.” she smiles. “Rhodey has been back a couple times when he can spare moments between missions, but I don’t think he’s opened it either. Or if he has, he hasn’t told me. Happy’s the same as me, hasn’t gone back to the compound.”

 

Steve nods, and figures that’s the end of the conversation, but then Pepper surprises him when she continues.

 

“You should open it.” and his head snaps around to stare at her.

 

“It’s not my place.” he counters firmly, and Pepper laughs softly, “then why did you ask if we’ve seen it? Is it me or Rhodey or Happy’s place then?” Steve frowns in confusion.

 

“Well...yeah I’d say it is. You’re all his family. If anyone should, it’s you.” Pepper doesn’t reply immediately and sighs instead, looking out of the window where they can hear the drift of Morgan’s happy laughter.

 

“I dunno Steve. I’m not sure I deserve to either.” she mutters, eyes clouded, and Steve frowns.

 

“That’s bullshit.” He tells her, rather loudly, and Pepper gives a startled laugh. Steve continues to frown at her, and she smiles fondly.

 

“Always so quick to defend me Steve?” she says, “I appreciate it, but it’s not deserved. I loved Tony, with all of my heart, but I’m definitely not without faults in our relationship. Tony tended to blame himself, but I did my own damage at times.”

 

Steve gives her a confused look, but doesn’t say anything, not wanting to push if she doesn’t want to tell. Pepper elaborates anyways.

 

“I wasn’t very supportive about Iron Man at the beginning, because I was just so terrified of losing Tony, when he came back once with bullet holes in his armour and I just, _God,_ I couldn’t handle it, the fear.” Pepper puts her head in her hands, and Steve sets a hand on her shoulder.

 

“So we broke up, and we made up again, and we broke up, and it kept going like that, on and on, because I couldn’t handle him being Iron Man, and he couldn’t handle being without. But I couldn’t stay away from him. How could I ever? He was, just so amazing, smart and gorgeous, heart of gold and utterly infuriating and everything I’ve ever wanted, he was _beautiful._ And I was helpless to stay away, absolutely _helpless_ , even though he himself never knew how much he was worth.” Steve watches her sadly as tears started welling up again in her eyes, angry at himself for bringing this entire conversation up and making her cry again when he said he wouldn’t anymore.

 

“But, the one thing I always had trouble accepting, the one thing that kept me away from him was the fact that he couldn’t give up being Iron Man. I never realized how hard it was making it for him, the fact that he had to choose, just because I didn’t realize that he _is_ Iron Man, and asking him to give that up is like cutting out a fundamental piece of himself.” Pepper shakes her head at herself angrily, face flushed with tears. “It was subconscious I guess, but it always felt like he was choosing it over me, and I resented him sometimes when he spent all his time in that lab, fixing the armour, designing weapons for the Avengers, and it was petty and horrible but it was how I felt. And I made things so much harder for him without even realizing it.”

 

Steve shakes his head, “I don’t think that part matters as much. Relationships are difficult and you were still good for him. You guys worked it out. He loved you with all he had.” he gives her a smile. “Marital bliss.” and Pepper laughs wetly.

 

“Yeah. I realized eventually, how much it matters to Tony in the end. It’s who he is, and it was _never_ about me. It was selfish of me to think that way, and everything worked out.” Steve hands her a tissue and Pepper smiles at him gratefully, “But,” she continues, wiping her eyes, “it doesn’t change the fact that I also don’t feel like I deserve to be the one to open the lab. That portion of his life? It has always been more yours than mine.”

 

They stand there in silence, as they let that statement sink in. Finally Steve breaks it.

 

“We should get Rhodey to do it. Best of both worlds.” he says nodding decisively, making it into a joke, even though he's half serious, Rhodey _would_ be the best person out of all of them, and his gamble pays off when Pepper lets out a laugh.

 

“Call him back from the Air Force, just for his handprint.” She comments.

 

“We’ll make a ceremony of it, make him wear his war machine armour.” Steve agrees, and they laugh softly, before falling silent again.  

 

“You should open it Steve.” Pepper says softly. “Don’t let the lab become a tomb. Tony wouldn’t want that.” Steve looks at her.

 

“But Rhodey-”

 

“Check with him if you want.” Pepper says. “But I'm not sure if his answer will be any different. It's been more than a year Steve.”

 

“Maybe Bruce has already-”

 

“Steve.” Pepper gives him a Look, and Steve sighs and meets her decisive and challenging gaze. Slowly nods.

 

“Good.”

 

“Will you be coming with me?” he asks, voice small. For some reason he doesn’t want to be alone for it, but he won’t push if she doesn’t want to. Pepper thinks about it for a minute.

 

“No,” she says. “No. I think I’m good with what piece of him I’ve got here with me.” She says, gesturing at the house, at the beautiful life she built together with Tony.

 

“Besides,” she continues, humour coming back into her eyes, making them sparkle with mischief, “He's got a lab here too that I can mess with however much I want.” Steve laughs at that, and then follows her to go greet Happy and Morgan again when she bursts in through the backdoor, a ball of sunshine, talking a mile a minute. He puts the conversation out of his mind for now and allows Morgan to pull him aside so she can show him her new discoveries by the lake.

 

He sees Pepper and Happy standing on the back porch watching them later on, Happy's arm around Pepper's waist in comfort. They look cozy.

 

There might be something new and fragile budding there. Or it might just be close friendship.

 

Either way, Steve smiles, and goes back to building a pinecone castle with Morgan.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite what Steve tells Pepper, he continues procrastinating with it.

 

He keeps training the other Avengers. Calls to assemble slowly begin increasing again, and yeah it's bad that the supervillains are coming back full force, but at the same time it shows that Earth is healing, with all its faults and setbacks along with it, so Steve can't help but feel a little guiltily relieved.

 

He enters the field sometimes if they need him as backup, but never as Captain America. He borrows one of the navy blue SHIELD suits in his size from Fury and fights with any weapon he can get his hands on. Without his shield he isn't really picky, and he knows how to work most forms of weaponry.

 

The new Avengers operate smoothly as ever, with Sam calling the shots and Bucky as his second. They work as a well oiled machine, and Steve can't help but feel extraordinarily proud of them, and sad, at the echo of how it had been all those years ago.

 

So like that another month passes. And another. And another.

 

Pepper rolls her eyes everytime she asks and he says no he hasn't yet. Rhodey tells him over the phone to get off his patriotic ass and just do it.

 

Finally, on the second anniversary of Tony's death, Steve finds himself once again, standing outside the lab. He’s against the opposite wall, hands flattened to it as he stares at the doors, not willing to step into range yet. He imagines he makes quite a sight, a six foot super-soldier cowering in front of a door.

 

“Come on Rogers.” he mutters to himself, trying to find the motivation to step into the blue wash of the scanners. It doesn’t work very well.

 

He’s never been a coward, that’s one of the few things he’s always been sure about in himself. And yet he’s terrified to try the door. What if it doesn’t open? It’ll be a relief and a disappointment all at once, he knows. It might re-open old wounds, although Steve’s not even sure they healed over correctly in the first place.

 

He walks forward, and the light sweeps over him quickly and efficiently as soon as they register a person there.

 

“Scan complete. Captain Steve Rogers, confirm voice recognition and handprint.” the same computerized voice says, and this time Steve puts his hand on the palm print.

 

“Steve Rogers.” he says out loud.

 

“Access denied.”

 

Steve freezes for a second, previously predicted disappointment and relief rolling over him in equal measure before he realizes that he doesn’t actually know what Tony entered him as. He knows that Tony has always had a liking for weird nicknames and references that Steve could never understand.

 

“Captain America.” he tries instead.

 

“Access denied.”

 

Steve purses his lips at the palm print, breathes in deeply and releases the air on a sigh. “I swear to all that is good and holy Tony…”

 

He glares at the lab doors, daring them to open.

 

“....Capsicle.”

 

The computer chimes an affirmative as the palm print lights up green. “Voice recognition confirmed. Welcome Capsicle.”

 

Steve snorts with amusement despite himself, and shakes his head, resigned, as the lab doors slide open. “God, only you Stark…”

 

He steps inside hesitantly, and sensors register movement, lights clicking on all throughout the lab one by one. Almost like it’s lighting a path.

 

The place is achingly similar to the lab Steve had seen in Stark tower, the few times he went down there to drag Tony out for non-negotiable things like food, water and sleep. The layout is generally the same, with a few small differences here and there, and Steve supposes it makes sense, that Tony would want his work spaces to all be rather familiar.

 

The only difference is, this lab is completely silent, absent of life and movement, and it seems wrong somehow, because Tony’s workplace had always been loud, the whirring of helper bots, the drone of JARVIS and later on Friday bantering with Tony in the background, the clanking of machinery manufacture, Tony blasting AC/DC…

 

It’s so quiet here that Steve’s footsteps echoing sound like thunder, and it’s just plain wrong.

 

He walks around, moving past holographic work tables, and sees all the Iron Man suits, lining the walls of the lab in their own compartments. When he walks past them, one by one, the lights over each suit click on. The armours gleam, that familiar burnished gold and cherry-red, each one labeled, Mark II, III, IV and onward…

 

Steve smiles at them sadly, reminded of Tony in the suits, an ordinary man transformed into something extraordinary by his own creation and genius, rising from his own ashes with his phoenix suit, all fire and flames.

 

He turns away when looking at them proves to be too much.

 

There are some tools tossed haphazardly on the workbench, never having been put away, and now that Steve looks closely, all the tables have gathered a thick layer of dust, after having been left undisturbed for, God what, almost seven years? Tony had taken FRIDAY, Dum-E, You and Butterfingers with him to the cabin with Pepper the first time they had failed to reverse the damage Thanos had wrought, when Thor had killed him. Five years later, Tony had arrived at the compound with the time machine already made, and the compound had other labs, so no one had returned here.

 

And now here Steve was, two years after the battle, the first human presence in almost a decade.

 

He brushes a hand through the dust, and the table underneath lights up, holographic schematics flickering to life above the smooth glass-like surface. One of the last projects Tony had worked on here.

 

Steve brushes the dust off his hand, and squints at the plans because that can’t be right can it? He’s almost entirely sure he’s reading it wrong, that looks like a-

 

He finally laughs helplessly, despite himself. Yup. No two ways around it. Steve’s staring at the plans for a talking coffee-maker. Of course.

 

“Insane.” Steve mutters to himself, chuckling sadly, and he feels a sharp pang as he waves a hand through the holograms, shutting down the table again. God, he misses Tony.

 

He moves on quickly then, dusting off surfaces and tools and ignoring the holograms when they flicker to life because he disturbed the tables.

 

It seems like the respectful thing to do, cleaning up the place a bit, and Steve eventually manages to scrounge up an old broom and dustpan from an old cupboard in the back. He supposes it’s too much to ask for a bottle of Lysol, so he makes do with a towel he wets with the sink in the back of the lab to wipe down the tables.

 

He dumps the rather shocking amount of dust from the dustpan into an empty garbage can by one of the walls, and makes a note to remember to take that out when he leaves. Then he grabs a mop from the cupboard, and a bucket, and sets to swabbing the floor.

 

When he finally finishes, he pauses in the middle of the lab, the place now as clean as it’s going to get considering Steve has no idea where to put the errant tools, and leans against the main workbench, staring at the suits.

 

“Rest in peace, Tony” he says, and his voice carries throughout the big room, echoing slightly.

 

He nods to himself eventually, turning slowly to leave, wondering if maybe he’ll finally have found a bit of closure, but then freezes when he hears a humming noise.

 

It’s the familiar sound of a mechanism starting up, and the room resonates with it as the humming grows louder, almost as if the lab itself is suddenly coming alive, with how it fills the previously dead silence.

 

There’s a shiver of something in the air, and lights Steve didn’t even know existed start glowing a soft blue at the edges of the room, the schematics flickering above each table. They dance and Steve stares as he looks around, mesmerized.

 

The humming grows louder and then stops suddenly, the room jarringly silent, like a caught anticipatory breathe, the moment before something life-altering…

 

“Unit designation confirmed.” A voice chimes, and Steve suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room, like he’s been suckerpunched, because he _knows that voice_.

 

“Activating, Technological Operating Network Youth, or alternate designation T.O.N.Y.” the voice continues and Steve shakes his head, as blue light flickers, and form in the middle of the room, a perfect 3D rendering of a very familiar hero.

 

The hologram tilts his head curiously at the shocked and shaken look on Steve’s face, and walks forward, and Steve scrambles back, smashing into the edge of the table in his haste to get away, even though he knows that if he reaches out to touch, his hand would simply go through air.

 

“Hello, Steve.” Tony Stark says, and smiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh suspense. *evil cackle*
> 
> I already have a general plot down for how this story is going to go, so I will probably (key word is probably) update frequently in the future. Feel free to yell at me in the comments section if I don't quite manage it, I've been known to procrastinate XD
> 
> I apologize for the rather shitty AI name Tony has, but unless you want him to be named Technological Operating Network Yams, we're stuck with what I have right now (Y words are hard to find okay XD)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading :)
> 
> Edit: So I realized at some point in time that there is a plot hole here that I never explained, because my brain went, it's ok we'll change canon a bit, and then never wrote an explanation on it?? So basically I headcanoned that not all of the compound was destroyed by Thanos, only certain portions of it, namely the upper levels, which is why Tony's original workshop/lab is very much intact. In the upcoming year or so, the destroyed portions were rebuilt. Sorry about that guys, will probably edit that in at some point, so if some things seem different, well, you aren't going insane 😅
> 
> (and come shout at me on tumblr, it's the-music-maniac)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is finally finished! Phew, that was a struggle and a half, though, I'm not very good at writing complex E M O T I O N S, so half the time I was curled around my laptop, just like how do humans function even? What is this?
> 
> Thank you to all those in the comments that gave me suggestions for Tony's name, they were all wonderful, but I think I'll keep it the same for now? Just because I don't really intend to mention what the abbreviation stands for again so yeah XD. 
> 
> MILD TRIGGER WARNING BTW. I feel the need to warn for this because it's really really minor, like barely there, but there's a very slight reference to suicide, although not technically suicide?? Because AI? But I thought I'd warn for it just in case. Read with caution. 
> 
> You can probably tell from my spelling of armour that I'm just very very Canadian, so please just ignore it and enjoy the story :)))

“You-” Steve says, and then stops abruptly, going back to staring. Tony - no, no, _not Tony_ , Tony’s dead, the _AI_ \- looks over at Steve and raises an eyebrow at him, the expression so familiar that Steve’s knees almost buckle.

 

It’s been five minutes, and he’s still trying to wrap his head around the vision in front of him. Steve kind of feels like his brain has shut down if he’s gonna be entirely honest, and a rather worrying numbness has set in where usually the panic or grief would have been.

 

After realizing that Steve wasn’t going to respond anytime soon, the AI had apparently decided to look around a bit, testing out his holographic shape, walking through tables, fiddling with schematics, and he again, just looks _so much_ like Tony that it takes Steve’s breathe away, not aged a day since Steve had saw him last (maybe even younger?), every detail, every mannerism perfected, his voice, his eyes, the way he walks _,_ his _expressions_ that Steve half wonders if he’s hallucinating or seeing a ghost.

 

“How-” Steve tries again, before falling silent once more. The AI gives him an amused look, so human, so _real_ and Steve can’t, he just _can’t._

 

He looks down and closes his eyes, tries to slow his breathing. He can’t look at him - _it_ , Steve corrects in his head and then immediately feels horribly guilty, because how could he ever call him an it, it’s _Tony_ , but then no, it’s not Tony at all is it?

 

“How do you know my name?” Steve asks, voice hoarse. He opens his eyes but stares resolutely at the ground. There’s a chuckle from the AI, and Steve can’t breathe.

 

“AI’s always have a primary objective when they’re created Steve,” Tony - _NO,_ the AI, and Steve has got to stop thinking about him as Tony, because he’s not, he’s not Tony, Tony’s dead and he’s never coming back- says, walking closer, footsteps silent, his feet coming into view where Steve’s still trying to bore a hole in the lab floor.

 

He’s so close. But there’s no body heat, because why would there be? The AI is pure light, created with circuits and sensors, calibrated perfectly for an illusion. Not real.

 

Steve shivers. He feels cold.

 

“Steve?” and Tony’s voice is so gentle. Steve never even knew an AI _could_ sound like that. Almost against his will, Steve’s eyes are drawn up, meeting the hologram’s gaze. It’s jarring, to see that the AI isn’t really solid, that you can see a very faint outline of the room _through_ the hologram if you look closely enough. Steve’s serum enhanced eyes notices it easily.  

 

“My primary objective.” the AI says quietly, and smiles, and Steve can’t breathe again, because it’s a warm smile, one of Tony’s _real_ ones, not a press smile, not a fake one for the cameras, but one of those last smiles Tony had given him before they had gotten onto the time machine- “is to protect you.”

 

“Me.” Steve repeats in disbelief, mouth dry, voice so hoarse that it almost cracks.

 

“Collective you,” the AI amends, stepping away with a dismissive wave of his hand, and again the gesture is so familiar it hurts horribly. “Y’know, protect you, help you out around the compound, make a smoothie or something. The Avengers, Pepper, Happy, Morgan, Rhodey, Peter, Harley etc. etc. Of course I know who you are. Kind of hard to protect who you don’t know.”

 

Steve doesn’t know how to react to this information. The fact that Tony apparently created an AI of himself before he died, because what other logical explanation is there, because this can’t actually be Tony can it, and who else could have _possibly_ made T.O.N.Y, who else could have had the genius, the knowledge to do so, and the fact that he set the AI’s primary objective to look after all of them when he’s gone, to keep them safe, protect them, even after all the hurt they’ve caused each other, and Steve, just. He just _can’t_. There are no other words for it.

 

Because now that the numbness and shock have receded, he feels things, he feels _everything_ , and it hurts, a old wound torn open, jagged edges and ripped vulnerable skin, because this is just bringing back old memories full force, and he doesn’t even have words to describe how it feels, knowing that Tony is looking after them even beyond the grave, and that he has this one little piece of Tony left that’s not even the _real thing_ , and it hurts, but so sweetly, that Steve wants to grab onto this emotion, hold it close even as he screams and sobs in pain.

 

“ -teve, Steve!” a voice calls, as if from very far away, and Steve ignores it because he can’t process any outside information right now, he can’t he can’t he can’t _breathe, there is no air, God there’s no air-_

 

There’s that familiar voice counting in his ear, and Steve grasps onto the sound desperately, tries to match his breathing to it, tries to calm himself, and it takes a few false starts, but he eventually manages, breaths matching closer and closer.

 

Finally, he becomes aware enough to realize he’s now on the floor, leaning against the base of the main workshop table, arms around his knees, curled into a ball. He’s shaking like a leaf, but he’s breathing normally now.

 

“Steve.” he looks up to see the AI kneeling in front of him, hand hovering as if wanting to touch him, but of course Tony isn’t solid. His eyes are worried. “You with me?” Tony asks, and Steve swallows. Nods slowly.

 

“Good. I notified some people in the compound when you became unresponsive. Just thought to inform you, they’ll probably get here in a couple of minutes.” Tony continues on to say, and Steve freezes as he realizes the implications.

 

“You called some people...over the intercoms?” he croaks weakly. “...with your current voice?”

 

And as if right on cue, there are footsteps thundering down the hall, and Peter bursts through the open door of the lab first, Harley, Bruce, Wanda, Bucky and Sam close behind.

 

“Steve! We were in the rec room there was a noise and I thought I heard - but it’s not possible right because - I - I -” and Peter stops when the tableau registers for him and everyone else, the image of Steve sitting curled up at the base of the table, half-panicked expression on his face with a flickering hologram of Tony Stark kneeling in front of him.

 

“Hello.” Tony says, overly formal, but voice unmistakable.

 

“Shit.”

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, everyone has migrated from Tony’s lab into Bruce’s, because Bruce is more familiar with the equipment in his own lab, and Tony apparently can pretty much go anywhere in the compound. Like FRIDAY, he has full control of the AI systems, all the technology in the place, and the Iron Man suits, although Steve can’t help but think that there’s probably not a system on this Earth that the AI couldn’t break into, considering.

 

Bruce talks to him quietly, asking Tony a bunch of questions, since he’s probably the one with the most expertise out of all of them right now, barring Shuri, who is still in Wakanda. They had notified everyone they knew as soon as possible considering how utterly unprecedented this entire situation is. Pepper and Happy are currently on the way (leaving Morgan with a babysitter, they’re not sure exactly how she’ll react), and Rhodey is trying to see if he can get leave to come as soon as he can. Clint’s also on his way and Shuri promised to make a visit at some point. They were unable to reach Thor at the moment.

 

“You know us,” Bruce says, watching as Tony flits around the room. Literally. The hologram isn’t corporeal so he can flicker in and out of existence at will. It’s a bit disconcerting to watch to be entirely honest.

 

Tony hums in confirmation flipping absently through some of Bruce’s electronic notes.

 

“Yet you don’t know anything about us? No memories? None of Tony’s experiences?” Bruce finishes, tapping away at his screen as he looks through the AI’s systems.

 

“No, I suppose there wasn’t really a way to transfer that. I don’t remember anything beyond what I’ve seen so far, and the fact that I know all of you. I also have a bit of cursory knowledge about all of your backgrounds, your relations to each other and me.” Tony makes a scrunched up face at Bruce. “That,” He says, pointing at him. “feels really weird.” indicating at where Bruce is flicking through code. “Ouch. Stop that. This is harassment.”

 

Bucky, Sam and Wanda give Tony a vaguely alarmed look, which Steve is pretty sure is mirrored on his own face, but Bruce just lets out a snort and stops staring at his screen to give Tony a Look of his own.

 

“Really.” he says, voice dry as the Sahara, making clear that he doesn’t buy it for a second.

 

“Nah,” Tony cackles at the expressions on everyone’s faces, and then flickers in to stand next to Bruce, peeking around his arm down at the screen. “Just messing with you guys. AI remember?”

 

Steve can’t help but roll his eyes, and again there's the pain immediately following the fondness, but Steve shoves that firmly to the back of his mind. Deal with this now, grieve later.

 

“Why do you ask?” Tony continues as he watches Bruce scroll through his systems with an increasingly perplexed look and Steve directs his mind back to the conversation. Curious, Peter also gets up to take a look at the screen.

 

“Nothing, it’s just.” Bruce shrugs a bit, and then turns to Tony, directing the explanation at him. “Okay, so your memory storage is pretty much empty at the moment like you say, but this coding is just. _Nothing_ I’ve ever seen before. And Tony - human Tony had allowed me to take a look at Jarvis’ systems once, because I was curious about it. Even Vision wasn’t like this, although he’s the one that comes closest.” Bruce gives Wanda an apologetic expression when he mentions Vision and Wanda gives him a wan smile in return.

 

“Every single facet of personality of yours is coded down to a T, and even as I look at this, it’s being altered by the events happening around you, and there are encrypted files, traits that you’re not even aware of yet, little quirks that in the grand scheme of things are useless - no offense meant, I’m just speaking in computer programming terms of course - and the system is learning and changing as it goes, the complexity and layers to this is _insane_ -”

 

“The way you’re talking about the coding there Bruce, makes it sound like a human personality.” Harley cuts in, raising an eyebrow. “Changing traits? Subconscious characteristics? Quirks? I don’t have a _seven_ PhD’s-” and Bruce rolls his eyes at Harley’s friendly but teasing tone. “-so correct me if I’m wrong, but an AI hardly needs any of those to function. In fact, in the long run it’ll probably hinder the program more than help.”

 

“Love you too Harley,” Tony comments wryly, who’s now looking over his own code, eyes moving as he reads, although Steve’s sure it’s just a facade for their sake since he could technically read all of it in a second if he wanted to.

 

Harley laughs, a bit sad. “Sorry Tony. You know what I mean.” and Tony responds with a teasing smile.

 

Bruce looks up from the screen at all of them and the expression on his face makes it clear that what Harley said about a human personality is exactly what he’s implying.

 

“I don’t get to say this often,” Bruce says, smiling slightly at AI Tony, “but if human Tony really made you, then we may not have given even his genius enough credit. He made an AI of himself that’s pretty much as complex as a human personality.”

 

“But what about Jarvis? Friday?” Sam asks, frowning. “They seemed pretty damn human to me.” but Bruce shakes his head.

 

“The fundamental coding is different. Jarvis and Friday are learning systems yes, but their personalities often remained untouched through the entire thing.” Bruce explains. “Coding it so the personality grows as well can be done of course, but it’s unneeded and inefficient.” Tony makes an offended grunting noise and Bruce rolls his eyes. “ _Again_ , speaking in computer programming terms Tony, don’t give me that look.” Bruce snorts when Tony puts his hand on his heart in fake offense. “Tony - _human_ Tony - often created a base personality, complex as well of course, but not to this extent, and built the learning systems above the base personality, leaving it untouched.

 

Steve nods at that. Bruce is most definitely dumbing it down for them, but it makes sense.

“And the reason why he decided to create Tony like this then?” he asks quietly, because that’s just the question isn’t it? Why he decided to do this? Why make an inefficient AI? Why make an AI of himself in the first place?

 

“If I had to hazard a guess?” Bruce says, sounding hesitant. “It’s not a particularly logical explanation if I’m gonna be entirely honest, it leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but the most likely hypothesis...possibly, maybe...because he wanted someone to keep us company?...not just an AI for the compound.”

 

“My tertiary objective.” Tony adds in at that, and Bruce gestures as if to say _there you go_. Bucky blinks at him. “Tertiary? What about the ones before?”

 

Tony tells them the primary, which Steve already knew (the secondary is, unsurprisingly, to protect those in need, within reasonable parameters of course).

 

The room holds a sort of stunned silence as everyone except Steve absorbs this new information. It’s the primary and tertiary objectives that they’re all really stuck on, Steve knows. Peter looks like he’s about to cry.

 

“I can’t.” he says suddenly, “I can’t I’m sorry, I just- I have to-” and then he leaves the room quickly. Steve goes to get up and follow him, but Harley waves him down, going after Peter instead.

 

“ _Jesus_ Tony,” Bruce says quietly into the resulting silence, the first glimpse of vulnerability Steve has seen from Bruce today, and you wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he’s remarkably good at hiding what he’s actually feeling when he wants to.

 

“I’m. I’m sorry,” the AI says, looking around at all of them wearily in the ensuing heavy silence, “I know I’m not him, not human Tony, but. Yeah.” and Steve frowns at him despite himself because no, Tony is _not_ allowed to look like that, have that sad expression, AI or otherwise, just _no_.

 

“Not your fault.” He says firmly, looking straight at the AI, who looks kind of startled at how fierce Steve’s protest is. Steve is a bit startled himself actually, because he still has no idea how he feels about this, but apparently reassurance is the one thing he can give at the moment.  “Definitely not your fault, don’t do that, don’t blame yourself.”

 

Wanda nods, giving Tony a gentle smile. “It’s not really human Tony’s fault either, he didn’t do anything wrong, we’re all just. Still mourning I guess. We miss him.”

 

“And I remind you of him,” the AI adds on quietly, “but I’m not him. I’m sorry. I - I’ll leave, shut down for now, stay out of your way-”

 

“Stark no.” Sam says firmly, and Tony again looks startled, mouthing the word Stark confusedly, “Sorry, that was Tony’s last name, force of habit. We don’t _want_ you to leave, so don’t you dare.”

He sighs, propping his chin on his hand. “We’re all just, touched, I guess you could say, that he went to such extents to keep us safe. Not all of us have had that good of a history with him, and the fact that he would do this for us -” he breaks off with a smile at AI Tony, who starts to tentatively smile back.

 

Steve notices absently as Tony shoots another answer back at Sam that, based on his observations in the short few hours that the AI has been activated, Tony’s personality isn’t _quite_ like human Tony’s was, he’s a bit more open with his emotions and thoughts, a bit more free, and dare he say...affectionate? Steve wonders to himself if it’s because the AI doesn’t have the same experiences or memories that Tony had, or maybe certain personality traits just happen to be different. He’s not exactly sure, but he quickly puts that train of thought off for later when he realizes he’s checked out of the conversation.

 

"-understatement of the century." Bucky’s in the middle of saying, shakes his head sadly. "I know you're not him Tony, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

 

Tony gives him a confused smile. "I have no idea why you're apologizing to me, but if it’s any consolation, I'm pretty sure human Tony wouldn't have included you in the list of people to protect if he hadn't forgiven you."

 

Bucky smiled sadly, "You'd be surprised. We've all realized at this point that Tony is kind of generous to a fault, even when he tries to hide it. You too, since you're basically him."

 

Tony looks away at that, seeming embarrassed, and clears his throat awkwardly. “Not exactly,” he jokes, sounding kind of flustered. “I can’t own any real estate for one thing.”

 

“Oh well, if you can’t own any _real estate_ then we take back everything we said.” Steve says dryly, slipping into banter despite himself, and Tony laughs, giving him a pleasantly surprised look.

 

Steve manages to muster up a weak smile for the AI, but then has to look away quickly, blinking, because it just emphasizes the memory of Steve getting to know _human_ Tony at the beginning, how he had seemed amiably shocked to be laughing everytime Steve said something snarky, how Steve had tried to be as much of a little shit as possible, just to hear that laugh again.  

 

Before any of them can say anything else, Tony looks up suddenly, eyes far away as if listening for something, before he suddenly blinks and glances around at the rest of the room.

 

“Pepper, Happy and Clint have arrived.”

 

* * *

 

Steve, Bucky, Bruce, Sam, Peter, Harley, Clint and Wanda are currently gathered in the main living area as Tony talks with Happy and Pepper alone. Clint had already had his time to speak a bit with Tony, and is currently sitting with them on the couch, staring off out the window in shock.

 

Bruce had quickly given them a run-down of everything he had told the Avengers when Happy, Pepper and Clint had come in through the door, with Pepper taking one look at AI Tony and turning as pale as a ghost. Steve had hurriedly helped her to a chair, and had gotten a shaky smile in response.

 

“Tony?” she had said, eyes haunted, and the fragile quality of her voice is heartbreaking. Tony the AI gives her a warm smile, clearly knowing who she is, but at the same time, the smile is missing something that should be there for your former wife. Love? Familiarity? Steve didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it either, so he had given Pepper a quick squeeze of her shoulder and left the room.

 

Now, they wait.

 

“So.” Clint says into the silence, still sounding stunned.

 

“Yup.” Sam responds. More heavy silence.

 

Peter sinks down further on the couch, eyes sadder than any teenager’s should be. “...I miss him more than ever now,” Peter comments, sounding small. Harley looks over at him worriedly, and puts his arm around Peter in a sort of sideways hug. Wanda puts her hand on his arm from the other side, squeezing comfortingly.

 

Steve watches them unhappily. He has rather mixed feelings about this, ranging everywhere from elation from the fact that in a way, they got Tony back, to melancholy and guilt at the previous thought and the knowledge that the AI is still exactly that. An AI.

 

As Bruce had told them while they had gotten settled in the living room to give Pepper, Happy and Tony some privacy, not a human with emotions and feelings, because it’s just not possible. No chemicals, no receptors to use those chemicals, no body to feel them with. Maybe there’s a convincing illusion of emotion based on the premises set by the personality, but it's not real emotion, and most importantly, he's not Tony Stark.

 

Steve’s not even remotely ready to deal with this, can barely wrap his head around everything that has happened. From the moment of his impromptu panic attack on the floor of the lab to now, he feels like he’s walking through a fog, like he’ll wake up eventually and find out this was all a bizarre dream, brought about by his grief.

 

But it’s not, and he has to figure this out, how things are gonna be now, because Steve’s the one who found him, who activated him, accident or no. He’s responsible.

 

He’s so tired.

 

“I do too,” Steve says eventually, in response to Peter’s statement. “Tony the AI isn’t a replacement for Tony Stark, because no one could ever really replace him.” and there are hums of agreement from around the room.

 

Steve finds himself wanting to go hide in his room, doesn’t want to say this pep talk he’s constructed. He makes himself continue. “But, Tony has been activated now. He’s as much a part of the Avengers as any of us, the same way with JARVIS and then FRIDAY. Can we all agree on that?” There are more hums of agreement and then Sam laughs.

 

“This is not how I imagined the day would go when I woke up this morning.” he mutters at the ceiling, and there are a couple quiet snickers and then silence, waiting once again.

 

* * *

 

Pepper and Happy pull Steve aside after their talk with Tony, who is now speaking with Bruce one on one in the corner of the room. Steve can't tell if he's just deciding to have heart to heart talks with everyone or if it's just casual conversation, but he hopes it’s the latter one. Steve’s not sure he can handle a heart to heart at the moment.

 

"So, we kinda wanted your opinion on something before we leave, because we're having trouble on deciding a course of action." Pepper begins, and Steve nods, indicating at them to continue.

 

"We're wondering if we should let Morgan know about Tony." Happy finishes for Pepper and.

 

Oh. Yeah. That is a difficult decision indeed. Steve can’t help but think to himself that he’s probably the _least_ qualified person to ask, especially in his current frazzled state of mind, but he frowns a bit anyways, thinking.

 

"Um. Well." He says. That is. Okay. Wow. Very difficult is a huge understatement. _Monumentally_ difficult is more like it. How the hell are you supposed to decide whether or not to tell a five year old child that her father has sort of, kind of, returned from the dead in the form of an artificial intelligence?

 

Steve hopes he's not giving them shitty advice as he hesitantly continues, thinking through his words carefully. "Ha. Okaaay so, in the end it's definitely your call, well, _obviously_ ….but if you want my honest opinion on this...I….think you should...tell her?"

 

Pepper gives Steve a surprised look, and Steve explains. "Um, Morgan is a really really bright kid and she understands more than most. I think if you tell her the truth, she'll be able to get it."

 

He hesitates, not sure if he should mention the next part. "...plus...hiding something as big as this from her, even if it's to protect her, probably wouldn't go over very well? Especially where parents are concerned." Steve gives them a wry smile. "I should know. I have...a _very_ bad history with this kinda situation with one Stark in particular." And she laughs, surprised. Happy shrugs at Pepper from beside her, as if to say, _he’s got a point there_.

 

"Thanks Steve, we'll keep your advice in mind when we decide and let you know." She says, smiling warmly, and Steve shrugs.

 

"Whatever decision you guys make, I'm sure it'll be the right one." He says confidently, and then follows them to the door to see them off, because they have to get back to Morgan, who is currently being looked after by a trustworthy neighbor.

 

He gives them each a heartfelt goodbye and hug, and gets a sympathetic smile from Happy, and an empathetic one from Pepper. He watches them get into the car and drive away, waving as they leave through the gate. Pepper and Happy seem to have become a sort of parental unit in the last two years, and Steve's glad, because Morgan should have a support system. Steve's still not certain if it's just friendship, but either way, he's pleased that they also both have someone to turn to when they need it.

 

He heads back inside, intending to rejoin the others in the living room, but he finds himself stopping just beyond the doorway, because in the short ten minutes he's been away, the rest of the Avengers have all gathered together on the couch in a gigantic group cuddle, watching the news. AI Tony is nowhere in sight.

 

With all the excitement of today, Steve had almost forgotten that it's still the second anniversary of Tony Stark's death. It’s an icy shock, the fact that he managed to forget briefly, and Steve leans on the wall just outside the doorway, heart heavy.

 

People all over are holding memorials for him, and the channels are all broadcasting the various ceremonies. All in honour of Tony.

 

The Avengers had of course, been invited to a bunch of these memorials, but they had shown their respects last year for the first anniversary in public and this time Sam, as the new leader and face of the Avengers, had politely declined, because none of them felt like being scrutinized while mourning. They had done the same for Natasha and all the other memorials for the fallen heroes.

 

The press had been a lot less vicious about the matter than they had in, well, really _any_ of the years Steve had dealt with them, not even calling them heartless for declining to show up in public. Instead they had seemed to respect their choice, left them alone to mourn in peace. It’s thoroughly decent, and it says something about Steve’s life, that out of everything that has happened in the last two years, the press leaving them alone is the thing he finds weird.

 

Steve stands quietly out of sight and range of sound over the playing of the TV, not quite ready to join them yet. He watches as speeches are given about the bravery that had been shown by Iron Man, as the camera pans through the crowd, thousands of people dressed in black, and red and gold in equal measure, come to pay their respects again.

 

Now that Steve has a moment to himself to think, the emotional rollercoaster of today seems to really hit him, smashing into him a hundred miles an hour like a freight train, finally pierces through the numbness that had set in, the soldier mindset of _do, solve this problem, keep going, think on your emotions later…_

 

Quite suddenly, Steve feels horribly overwhelmed, wants to hide in his room like a little kid again, deny that this is happening, hands over his ears, avoid the entire messy situation, and he’s tired and almost at the end of his rope, two seconds away from snapping like a rubber band drawn too tight. Steve can’t help regret opening the lab a bit, because although he predicted that doing so would hurt, would probably re-open some old wounds, he hadn’t quite counted on the situation cutting this deep.

 

There’s a small glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye, and it’s all the warning Steve gets before a quiet voice says from beside him. "Penny for your thoughts?" He turns to see the hologram form in full, flickering in unobtrusively.

 

Steve resists the urge to flinch at the familiar face, manages to find a small smile for the AI, and then turns back to look at the TV.

 

"Not really thinking much." he lies, instead thinking way _too much_ , and watches as the camera films a little girl putting down a wreath of roses in front of the memorial platform.

 

Tony hums from beside him, and Steve just.

 

He’s not really sure _what_ happens, but it’s almost like something inside him, something under pressure from everything that had happened today, the panic attacks, the shock, the grief, just shatters at the sound.

 

There’s no reasonable explanation for it, but, suddenly, he just feels so _angry_ , hands almost shaking with it, bewilderingly, illogically, irrationally so, out of nowhere. And he feels resentful, so _resentful,_ because _why would Tony do this,_ why would he make an AI that looks so much like him, it just hurts all the more, the fact that Steve is reminded of Tony in all his forms, alive, happy, snarking at him, angry, righteous, heartbroken, but _it’s not him, it can never be him again,_ and Steve could almost _hate_ them in this instance, hate them with _everything he has_ , the AI and Tony, because he’s never ached quite so much before-

 

Steve knows he’s probably stiffened, and the AI looks over at him, worried and surprised.

 

And there’s another part of him that seems just to be mad at the AI, even though it’s even more illogical, because he hasn’t _done anything_ , but it somehow pisses him off even more, the fact that the _machine_ is watching him with Tony’s face and Tony’s eyes, and Tony’s soft expression, but not actually _being_ Tony, the fury that the AI is even here, alive (as alive as an AI can be) and the real Tony is not.

 

Steve needs to leave _right now._

 

He needs to leave before he says something he’ll regret, something he can’t take back. Tony’s here, and Steve feels like a bull in a china shop, sharp blades and razor edges, and the newly awakened AI doesn’t even have memories of the Civil War or of their first meeting in the helicarrier, has no defenses against the horrible things Steve says when he’s not thinking clearly, is all vulnerable wrists and soft skin.

 

It reminds him, inexplicably, of those months of avoidance when he had woken up from the ice, tired and depressed and irrationally angry at the world, walls built as tall as they can go and metaphorical fists up, those bouts of momentary fury, at the little things, that would subside just as quickly as they came, but leave Steve shaken anyways afterwards.

 

Steve makes an effort to untense his muscles, clears his throat awkwardly.

 

"Look. Do you mind just-just give me a day alright? Just this day to-to get used to the situation.” he gives the AI a tight smile, knows he looks too stiff, but he can’t seem to make his body obey him, the instructions to relax. “This is just, a lot to process, and I meant what I said earlier, you're always welcome here, make no mistake of that, heck this is technically your compound? You're part of the team now, but just for today, I can’t-” Steve breaks off, breathing in sharply, wills the AI to understand, this is Steve’s own issues not anyone else’s, but he can’t seem to make himself say it without it sounding awful and plastic. “-just give me a day to mourn him?"

 

"Can't own any real estate." Tony reminds him absently and then freezes slightly, almost as if the snark is reflex, and Steve feels himself stiffen even further. He tries for a small laugh and it feels horribly fake.

 

"Tony."

 

The AI gives him a fake smile, maybe not an obviously fake one to others, but after years Steve can tell the difference now and he feels terrible that he put that expression there, but he can’t do anything about it, not while his muscles seem hellbent on becoming petrified rock. "I'll see you later, Steve." is all he says, and flickers out of existence.

 

Steve tries to swallow, throat working, then turns and leaves the compound, unable to face everyone the way he is right now.

 

He heads for the fields around the Avengers property, and starts running, mind going blank, around and around and around, ignores everything around him, and just loses himself in the rhythm of his steps.

 

He thought he had been over this. He thought he had made it through the worst of the grief.

 

He sees some of the Avengers leave the compound at some point, try and wave him down, but he doesn’t give an inch, feels dreadful for it, but he can’t face any of them at the moment. He runs for hours, until even his supersoldier muscles are screaming for a break, pushed to the limit, and he collapses, boneless on the grass, gasping and soaked in sweat. He thought he had been making progress, moving on from the deaths in the final battle, healing. Now he’s back to square one.

 

He wants to cry. He wants to scream.

 

Instead, he stares at the sky as it darkens into evening, watches numbly as today slips away, keeps pushing forward, the unrelenting passage of time, too fast for Steve’s battered body to keep up with the changes it brings.

 

Bruce is surprisingly the one who ends up coming out to find him in the end. He takes one look at Steve’s face and knows. Because who else to understand rage and hurt, irrational anger that eats away at you, _consumes_ you even as it pushes you forward, but the Hulk?

 

He pulls Steve into a hug, and Steve lets him, takes the comfort gratefully and sits in broken silence with Bruce as the stars emerge, one by one.

 

* * *

 

Steve spends the next week avoiding AI Tony like it’s his job, which happens to be a very difficult thing to do when said AI runs the entire compound you live in.

 

Steve manages. Tony probably realized Steve was still uncomfortable around him, and is obligingly leaving him alone, and again there's that combination of relief and guilt, but the end result is Steve being left to his own devices so he ignores it and keeps avoiding people.

 

Instead, Steve will occasionally see Tony talking or bonding with the other Avengers, joking around with Bucky(now that Steve thinks about it, they do have remarkably similar personalities), poking fun at Sam as he trains in the gym, following Bruce around as he does his experiments and helping him run calculations, laughing with Wanda and Harley as they watch re-runs of Friends.

 

The only person who doesn't warm up as much to Tony is Peter, although he does a lot better than Steve, at least talking normally to Tony and being friendly.

 

Occasionally someone will come and try and coax Steve into talking, worried about how he's retreating. Steve's reply every single instance is that he needs more time to process.

 

Now that he's calmed down, Steve isn't upset that Tony is bonding with everyone else. Despite the previous irrational anger, he doesn't _want_ to hurt Tony. He's glad that the AI is feeling welcome here.

 

But Steve really doesn't want to be the one who welcomes him right now. Doesn't want that responsibility when he can barely keep himself together.

 

Plus things are. Kinda awkward now.

 

So the only interaction Steve really has with the AI is when Shuri arrives at the compound two days after Tony's activation to take a look at him, because she pretty much the expert.

 

All the Avengers are present to greet Shuri, including Steve, and then they all go sit in Bruce's lab once again as she scrolls through the systems.

 

After a while she lets out a low whistle.

 

"Very advanced." She says, shaking her head. "Absolutely gorgeous coding. I'm definitely impressed, and it takes a lot for me to say that." She gives AI Tony a sad smile, who smiles back at her. "I wish I had gotten to meet your creator. He seemed remarkable."

 

And Tony responds with "from what I've heard of him, he was."

 

And that's all Steve really hears because he stops listening after that, not wanting to hear them talk about Tony Stark either when things are still raw. Irresponsible and childish really, but he's old and retired, leave him alone.

 

He talks a bit with Shuri before she leaves to go hang out with Peter, Harley and Wanda ("what, I'm gonna fly all the way to New York and _not_ see the sights?"), asks her how everyone is doing, and they have a brief conversation. Then Steve goes to leave the room and he accidentally catches Tony's eye from where the hologram is leaning against the lab bench, watching Steve with an unreadable look on his face. He gives Tony a small nod, and exits.

 

And that's it. That's the extent of their interaction.

 

Things finally come to a head one afternoon when everyone is called to assemble(minus Harley who is not an official Avenger yet because he's still in training).

 

Steve doesn't go with them, instead waits at SHIELD headquarters with Director Fury and Agent Hill, and listens to the battle through the comms, since SHIELD agents are working together with the Avengers on this one.

 

It seems like a very routine villain, evil monologue, world domination, etc. etc.

 

But then the villain does something, and Steve doesn't know what it is, he doesn't have the monitor, and all he has to go off of is the comms, everyone is too concentrated on the fight to explain, but whatever the villain does throws the Avengers for a loop. Steve listens, tense as the comms fill with swearing and terse orders from Sam. He starts pacing at the one minute mark, energy cooped up, itching to go join the fray, to go help out.

 

He breaks around the five minute mark, and goes to grab his SHIELD uniform, because he’s not going to sit this out if he can help it.

 

Ten minutes pass, and finally Sam calls in a request for backup. By that time Steve is already suited and waiting, ready to go.

 

He hops onto the helicopter with a bunch of other SHIELD agents, inserting a comm into his ear, assorted weapons strapped at his hip and they arrive quickly on site. He doesn’t wait for anyone, and throws himself into the fight, moving civilians out of the way along with the other agents, who are trying to secure the location.

 

He’s never seen anything like it.

 

The street is covered with swarms of a glittering substance that form into shapes and disintegrates at will. It’s a massive and deadly behemoth, fast, despite its size, unharmed by physical attacks, and magical ones don’t seem to hinder it much. Wanda destroys one of the masses, and it quickly reforms a few seconds later, deadly and quick as ever. The villain is nowhere in sight, apparently having escaped as soon as he had unleashed his little surprise.

 

Steve watches, horrified, as the mass easily demolishes a low building, chunks of concrete falling onto the street as Bruce blocks civilians from getting killed by them.

 

“Steve.” Sam grunts from over the comms, and Steve looks up in time to see Sam’s agile form swoop gracefully away from a hit, his uniform a combination of the Falcon armour and the Captain America uniform. The shield is strapped to his back.

 

“Man, am I glad to see you.”

 

There’s a chorus of tense greetings over the comms as the rest of the Avengers realize that Steve’s on scene, and Sam fills him in as he joins the fight.

 

They have a tentative idea on what the substance is, although no one is really able to get a proper look, with how the thing is trying to, y'know, kill all of them.

 

Number one theory at the moment is that it's a creature of some sort, or made from a spell since it looks too fluid to be anything technological, although Steve knows first-hand that looks can be deceiving. Steve concentrates on not dying first and foremost as he fights, terse discussions and suggestions being bounced back and forth over the comms, mind whirring at a hundred miles an hour as he thinks desperately for a way to take this thing down, because how do you destroy something that can reform two seconds later? Tactics mean shit if you can’t subdue your enemy.

 

About seven minutes later, Steve finally hits on a weakness entirely by accident, when he realizes that the baton that he had grabbed quickly as he left for the helicopter is actually an electric staff.

 

He knows this because it activating is probably the one thing that ended up saving his life, him slammed against the side of a building when the behemoth shoots out an arm, and he doesn’t have enough air in his lungs to even call for help, everyone is too far away, the wall around him cracking as it squeezes him-

 

He grasps for a weapon desperately with the hand that’s still somewhat free, not entirely pinned by the grey substance, and his hand closes on the edge of the baton.

 

He tries to lever it between the wall and the unyielding swarm, tries to do _something_ at least, and he probably hits something, or maybe it registers distress, he doesn't know, because in the next second, he’s staring at the glowing end of a sparking staff, strong enough to pierce _through_ the substance. The arm weakens briefly, and as soon as it’s grip is loosened, Steve gulps in air, slashes the hand with the staff, and he drops to the ground as portions of the arm disintegrate, some glitching and shorting out from the jolt of electricity.

 

He looks down at the staff, still gasping for breath. It's now as tall as him, lightweight and pitch black with a strip of blue glow that almost reminds him of the arc reactor light, a small logo printed on the end.

 

Stark tech. Of course.

 

“Electric jolts weaken it,” he reports as he throws himself back in, fully utilizing the staff now that he knows exactly what it can do. “Only briefly though,” he mentions, as he watches the portions he zapped recover and reform into the main mass without problem. He spins the staff expertly, having learned a thing or two from Okoye during his brief stops in Wakanda those years he was running from the government, levers himself up and over a portion of the behemoth, slashes through it neatly, lands.

 

“Roger, Rogers.” Bucky grunts, and Steve lets out a huff of laughter despite himself. There are hums of affirmation from everyone, a few laughs, and then it’s all serious battle tactics again.

 

From there on, it gets steadily worse.

 

The mass is unrelentless, untiring, and after that little stint with Steve's staff, they've gathered that it’s probably some form of technology, reminds him of Tony’s nanotech suit now that he’s seen it up close, and the implications alone from that are horrifying, because if someone has managed to replicate it, the amount of damage that technology is already doing in the wrong hands…they'll need to deal with the implications eventually, but first they have to subdue this thing.

 

The Avengers are tiring, and even still the mass pushes on, with an aerial advantage on them, and they can’t keep fighting like this, unable to destroy any part of it, because sooner or later they’re going to lose.

 

"We don't have enough air support." Spiderman calls out. "My webs, I can't keep up with how fast this thing is goi-whoa!" he stops talking in order to dodge a hit, swooping out of the way.

 

"Anyone got any suggestions about how to take this down once and for all?" Wanda gasps, red magic swirling as she tries to hold back a portion of the mass.

 

"An EMP blast would probably do it,” Bruce says, voice taut because he’s pretty much singlehandedly trying to stop a building from collapsing. Peter picks up the slack when Bruce doesn’t continue, talking a mile a minute, “yeah, but only if we’re not totally off base about it being some sort of nanotech, but beyond the fact that it would short out all our equipment too, we don't have anything that could create that on such short notice-"

 

Peter breaks off suddenly with a shout as he gets distracted with the explanation, is a second too slow. One of the spikes catches him in the side, slicing neatly through his webs and he goes down, hard, meeting the concrete sidewalk with a sickening cracking sound.

 

"SPIDERMAN!" Steve shouts, and it’s echoed by those who witnessed his crash. Steve tries to run to him, but he’s blocked by the mass, which throws him back, slams him into a wall again. Steve escapes before it can pin him properly.   

 

"I'm-I'm fine...just...shit, probably some broken ribs?" Peter gasps out over the comms, breathing laboured. "I'll be ok, I-" he hisses sharply when he tries to move.

 

"Someone, get him out of range," Sam yells and Bucky is the nearest to Peter so he moves forward, but then the mass grabs him, stops him from making it to Peter's side, and Steve can't get away from the substance's pursuit of him, fighting desperately, and this is isolation tactics if Steve's ever seen it, his stomach dropping as a spike forms, and it’s chilling how coordinated everything is, clearly intending to kill, aimed at where Peter's still struggling to stand, and it's going to be too late, they're all going to be too late, they're going to lose someone else-

 

There's a whir of machinery, a sound of repulsor fire, and the spike is pulverized.

 

What.

 

Steve swears to God his heart stops entirely as his eyes register just what exactly he's seeing, because no, it's _impossible._

 

The Iron Man armour in all its red and gold glory, one of the older generations, swoops in and lands in front of Peter, keeping the swarm at bay with its signature repulsor beams, and then picks Peter up gently, ferrying him away with a whir to where some SHIELD personnel are helping out.

 

Steve can see out of the corner of his eye as Peter is loaded onto one of the helicopters, and taken to safety, his protesting audible over the comms the entire way.

 

"Who-" Bruce's voice is understandably shocked. There's a crackle of quiet static and then:

 

"Hey guys."

 

Tony.

 

Steve feels another stab of horribly intense, irrational anger along with the crashing wave of gratitude and disappointment in equal measure, seeing that armour flying, paired with that _voice,_ you could almost think it’s the real Iron Man, back from the dead, and there's absolutely _no reason_ for Steve to feel possessive over a _suit_ , it's not even fucking _his_ , why is he so angry over the idea that the AI tampered with it, is using it, he's not Tony but he's as close to Tony as it gets-

 

"What the hell are you doing?"

 

The words slip out before Steve can stop it, low, angry and tense, and the comms go deathly silent, even as the battle continues. There's a moment's pause and then:

 

"What does it look like? I'm helping." Comes the terse reply. Steve doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything, going back to the battle.

 

"Ok sooo. Solutions guys?" Sam prompts again, awkwardly, and really there should be no room for awkward in a life or death fight, but somehow they manage it. Steve doesn't reply as he stabs his staff through a portion of the mass, and it crumbles away.

 

"Well, I got your EMP blast right here." Tony says, and the armour zooms past Steve, the portion that he had destroyed re-assembling and following him. "Sam, land. Now. This is gonna take out all technology for the next two blocks. Everyone get out of range, a million tons of free-falling nanotech is not going to pleasant to be under." and with that, the armour flies upward, dodging spikes and protrusions easily, finding an optimal position.

 

It's about hundred meters up when there's a pulse of light, and there's a moment where nothing happens, where the behemoth is still destroying everything in its path, where Steve's staff still glows a deadly blue, and then suddenly, everything dies.

 

The mass drops like a stone, slamming to the ground with a deafening crack, a million tons of who knows what sizzling on the city streets.

 

Sizzling?

 

"Chemical self-destruct is my guess." Bruce says in answer to Steve's unspoken question as he walks forward to stand beside Steve. Comms are dead.

 

Steve nods in agreement, watching the now boiling pavement, but then notices a movement in the sky.

 

It's the Iron Man armour, dropping like a stone, and it's reflex, Steve feels pure panic, almost runs forward, self-destruct be damned, almost goes to catch about 225 pounds of metal armour in deadly free fall, because it's _Tony_ and he's in trouble, except Bruce grabs him, pulls him back before he makes it a step, and he remembers.

 

The armour hits the boiling ground with a wet smack, and melts, along with the rest of the technology.

 

Steve flinches, anguished even though it's just a suit, and turns away.

 

* * *

 

The cleanup is handled by SHIELD agents, because it involves chemical contaminants, which they’re more equipped to deal with then the Avengers are.

 

So instead of helping out with the aftermath, Steve sits worriedly in SHIELD medical with the rest of the team as Peter is checked over and eventually cleared, ribs and broken arm already healing, and then sits quietly through the SHIELD debriefing, dutifully making his interjections when prompted.

 

They don’t get very far in terms of discussions to be honest, because none of them are really sure if this is a one and done deal, or if something more sinister is at play here. The end result remains the same, they need to find that villain that created the nanotech, which they’re not even sure _is_ nanotech because of how everything had melted, and the precautions taken and the way that thing had fought is too advanced and calculated for Steve’s comfort or peace of mind, but they need to locate this villain, find out how exactly he got ahold of this, or how exactly he made this, analyze him for level of threat and stop him before he strikes again.

 

The job would usually be perfect for the Black Widow, and none of them are saying it, but really they’re all thinking it. Bucky is assigned to it instead, and Steve hurts at the reminder of Natasha, can see it on everyone else’s face too. Even Fury looks a bit worse for wear as he dismisses them.

 

In the quinjet ride back, Steve watches from his seat as Peter leans a bit on Wanda, tired and worn out, with her arm around his shoulder, Wanda stroking his hair with a sisterly frown on her face. Peter’s young face looks haggard and exhausted and Steve finds that he’s tense and angry, at himself mostly, as he watches them and he reviews the battle in his head, thinks about what they could have done differently.

 

It’s a long ingrained habit at this point, born out of years of leading the Howling Commandos and later on the Avengers, and of course he’s no longer team leader, but it doesn’t stop him nitpicking at the little mistakes in his head, how he could have been better, if only he had done _this_ instead of that…

 

He watches Peter, arm in a sling, and it kills him that they almost lost him today, he’s just a _kid_ , and he’s glad Tony showed up in time, but thinking about him using the armour just opens up an entirely new can of worms.

 

Because again, Steve knows he shouldn’t be angry, the armour is not _his_ and he has no right, but knowing has shit to do with how he feels, because he’s pissed anyways. There is only one Iron Man, and he’s gone.

 

Steve just wants to take a shower, collapse on his bed and not move for another seventy years. They all separate when Bucky lands the quinjet expertly into the hangar, all too weary to talk anymore.

 

Peter tries to wave them all off when they go to help him, and finally reluctantly let’s Wanda lead him out of the door when she refuses to leave his side.

 

“Movie night after?” Sam offers to him, Bucky and Bruce quietly, but Steve shakes his head.

 

“You guys go ahead, see if Harley wants to join too. I think I’m gonna turn in early.” he gives them all a small smile, and turns to go.

 

“Steve, you know if you ever need to talk...” Sam begins, giving him a concerned look.

 

“I know. Thank you.”

 

Steve gives them a grateful smile and heads to his room wearily after that, wanting to be left alone so he can rest, calm down from the high of the battle, sort through the guilt of letting Peter get hurt, but then he stops in his tracks when he opens the door to his room.

 

Tony is there waiting for him.

 

"We need to talk." Tony says, turning to look at Steve, who stiffens in the doorway, irritation rising as Tony continues to stare at him. Seriously. Now?

 

He glares at Tony, trying to make it clear that he wants him to leave.

 

"No. We don't." Steve walks into his room, stalking past Tony to his closet to grab a change of clothes.  

 

Tony glares right back at him, apparently finally fed up.

 

"You can't keep _avoiding_ me." Tony hisses, following Steve, not taking the hint. "We live in the same compound, I pretty much control the place, and I don't know what I've done to earn this-this passive aggressive attitude, but it _needs to stop._ "

 

"I have been nothing but civil to you." Steve returns coldly, not appreciating this confrontation one bit, especially when he’s already physically and emotionally spent.

 

"Uh huh. Sure.” Tony says tersely, lips thinning to a line when he presses them together. “That little comment you made during the battle. You call that civil?"

 

“Just shock.” Steve returns, flatly, gives him a bland smile. “I’m sorry if seeing the Iron Man armour threw me for a loop, since said owner of the armour is _dead,_ but not _all of us_ can be as well adjusted as _you are,_ now can we?”  

 

“Ha, shock he says. Really.” Tony huffs out a disbelieving little laugh. “That’s _bullshit,_ Rogers, and you know it. Y’know you didn’t stop glaring at me through the entirety of the fight?” Steve frowns, because he actually hadn't realized he was doing that.

 

"Yeah, every time I saw you, you were fucking looking at me as if I killed your first born child or something. You all but run the other way every time you see me."

 

"And you've somehow translated that into me having a problem with you in particular?" Steve says mildly, trying to get Tony to fucking _leave him alone_. “A bit narcissistic don’t you think?”

 

“Oh no, you do _not_ get to act as if I’m fucking delusional.” Tony spits back. “You forget that AI's can see the entire compound? You were so angry after talking to me that one day you fucking ran 1673 laps around the fields. It's not a small place Steve, and I counted. So look me in the eyes and try and tell me you don’t have a problem."

 

“Well, I guess privacy is no longer a thing.” Steve comments flatly, giving him a tight smile instead of acknowledging anything else Tony had said. Tony glares at him.

 

"Don’t change the subject.” Tony responds, sharklike smirk sliding firmly into place, and Steve takes back what he said about the AI being different because this, _this_ is one of the faces of the Tony he remembers, teeth bared in a smile, unflinching. “We’re talking this out like adults. Because that’s what we are right? Instead of avoiding each other for an entire week with no explanation. Nope. Not doing that, because that’d be childish.”

 

Steve fumes as Tony continues to smirk at him, can feel his irritation rising even more somehow, because it’s not enough that Tony has to come bother him when he’s exhausted, hungry and about to keel over, it’s not enough that Steve’s left him alone because he doesn’t want to let Tony know about his hang-ups because he has a _tiny_ hunch that telling the AI _I don’t like seeing you here because it feels like a betrayal, like you’re a replacement for someone irreplaceable_ , won’t go over well, it’s not enough for all of that, but then Tony has to go and imply that all of Steve’s sleepless nights, lying awake staring at the ceiling, panic attacks that he can’t control, are _childish?_

 

Steve gives Tony a sharp smile of his own, ready to be done with this entire fucking interaction.

“I think you’re the last person that should be accusing _others_ of being childish.” Steve says testily. “What exactly are you trying to achieve with this ambush Tony?”

 

“Oh, just a _little fucking bit_ of understanding.” Tony says, voice finally turning furious, still smiling that shark smile. “Maybe a little explanation of why you keep _flinching_ everytime you see me. You know that you do that? Look at me in that way that says you hate the sight of me, hate that I'm here, and I don't even know what I've fucking done. What is your _problem_? I save Peter’s life today, save all of your asses, and I get glared at like you want to bore a hole through my fucking skull. Do I scare you, is that it?" And Tony laughs harshly, no humour in the sharp snap of the sound, and he’s moving forward, and Steve’s slowly backing up.

 

"What, a relic from the 1940s can't handle the idea of a fucking AI, except I _know_ that's not true because I've heard you got along _wonderfully_ with Jarvis and Friday, so maybe it's _just me_ , is that right, _Cap_?" And Tony sneers at his title, the nickname that Tony Stark had given him, and Steve is tired and angry and emotionally exhausted from holding everything he feels in, not letting other people know, with Tony snarling at him, angry and backed into a corner and something inside him snaps under the pressure.

 

"Shut _up._ You don't know _anything_ about it." Steve snarls back viciously, finally dropping his mild facade, and Tony's still glaring, but Steve doesn't stop, on a roll now, the anger having festered to a boiling point, bottled up. "It's been two years since the final battle with Thanos and I thought I was finally _okay_ , that I was finally free to fucking _move on_ , and then I opened that _stupid lab_ and you showed up, and how exactly am I supposed to feel, about the fact that you look EXACTLY like Tony does, you act like him, you speak like him, but you're not him are you?"

 

Steve sneers out the last bit, his voice ugly as Tony's eyes widen with shock, and he's so angry, at Tony, at the world, wound up too tight for too long and it's almost a relief, to get these poisonous words out, because wrong as it is, that's how Steve feels.

 

"No, you're just a fucking _machine_ , heartless lines of code, and yet I'm just supposed to accept you as a replacement for him, without question, just like that?"  Steve laughs sharply, almost hysterically, and the transforming expression on Tony's face is awful, the anger sputtering out, gradual hurt taking its place, but Steve can't make himself stop talking. "And then I have to stand by and watch as you use his Iron Man armours, as you _destroy_ them, supposed to smile and laugh and joke around with you, treat you as a friend, pretend everything is fucking okay, let you joke around, make fun of my grief like it’s nothing, pretend he's not _gone_ , well that just sucks then, because it's _not going to happen-_ "

 

There's a small rational part of Steve still screaming at him to stop, a last ditch effort, a voice of reason saying _"no don't say it"._

 

"-so, you're _right_ Tony," he sneers, derisive. "That Tony Stark brand genius has figured it out again, because it's not anything you've fucking _done_ . It's. Just. _You_."

 

Steve sees Tony's face as the words hit their mark, anger and pain as he flinches, and there's a flash of memory, them in _Sokovia, and Steve's so scared and he needs to stop Tony before he kills Bucky and Steve goes too far_ -

 

He recoils violently, backs up until he hits the wall of his room.

 

The silence grows heavy between them, and there's the satisfaction at having said all of this quickly changing to regret and horror as it sinks in just what exactly he's done, and oh _God_ no, it's not true, none of this is Tony's fault but he can't take it back and Tony's face just. He crumples.

 

The silence is absolutely horrible, and Steve is petrified there, that he went ahead and said all of it in a moment of weakness, no holds barred, despite his resolve not to include Tony in his own problems and hangups, and now he doesn't know how to fix it.

 

"Oh god." he whispers into the silence, horrified. "Oh _God_ -I, Tony-"

 

"Don't." Tony snaps, whip crack sharp, and Steve shuts his mouth with a click. "I get it." His voice is horribly flat, and he flickers out of existence two seconds later.

 

In the echoing silence of his empty room, Steve sinks to the floor, numb.

 

What the fuck has he done?

 

* * *

 

Steve paces around restlessly for an entire hour after that, unable to keep still, feeling like his skin is crawling with guilt. He needs to go apologize _right now_ , but there’s no getting around the fact that he’s currently stalling, under the guise that he’s trying to think of what to say, because a cowardly part of him that’s almost too scared to do it, to attempt to find Tony, to see his rejection of Steve’s apology, because how could he accept it after what Steve implied?  

 

All the anger is gone now, in the face of Tony’s distress, finally aired out with Steve’s rant, deserting him when it’s strength is needed most, and it leaves Steve stewing in the aftermath of his remorse, cutting words said that he can’t take back.

 

Steve freezes suddenly in his pacing as a thought randomly occurs to him, a memory.

 

_"I'm sorry. I - I’ll leave, shut down for now, stay out of your way-"_

 

No. Tony wouldn't. Right?

 

No, he _couldn’t_ , there’s no way Steve’s words matter _that_ much to him, not when the other Avengers have made it clear that they want Tony around, not when Tony barely knows him, hasn’t even spent two days talking to him, not when he’s already begun building a home here-

 

But he offered once, so even if there’s a slim possibility-

 

_No._

 

Steve turns and full on runs, bursting out of his room down the halls, down to the lab, terrified and panicked and anguished and guilty, skids to a stop in front of that unassuming hallway, those doors that are now locked and shut just like he figured it would be even though they had been completely open for the past week.

 

God Steve didn't remotely deserve to be the one to open it, doesn't deserve being viewed as family by Pepper, Happy, Morgan and Rhodey, doesn't deserve _any_ of the kindness he's been shown, because he had taken all of that and smashed it to smithereens, had been so entitled and selfish, focused on himself, ignoring Tony with no explanation, and Steve realizes a part of him has been seeing an object there the entire time simply because it's been too painful to see a person.

 

Not a replacement for _anything._

 

"Tony," Steve calls, broken, and he expects it when the door scans him, and doesn't even prompt him for a handprint or voice recognition, chiming out an _access denied_ immediately. It hurts even though Steve knows he has no _right_ to be hurt, not after what he's said.

 

"Tony, _please_ ," Steve begs, and he puts a hand against the locked door. "I know you have absolutely _no reason_ to listen, and I have no idea if you're even there, or if it's already too late or-" Steve breaks off, unable to continue with that line of thought.

 

"I'm _sorry,_ God, I'm _so sorry Tony,_ I don't know what I was even-" and Steve is choking, vision blurring in front of him, and he squeezes his eyes shut desperately to find words, to explain, apologize.

 

"I was so _angry,_ but that's _not an excuse_ and none of that was your fault, and maybe a part of me did feel that way, those horrible things that I said, but it doesn't matter, because those were _my own issues_ with the situation, my own problems and shortcomings not yours-"

 

Steve leans his forehead against the door almost desperately as he rambles, trying to will Tony into hearing what he's saying, knowing that he's probably just talking to an empty room.

 

"-and God you're not a replacement, you don't even come _close_ because how could you be?”

He pauses for breath, before he continues, a bit quieter now but still pleading. “I avoided you, but I _saw_ you, how you made Wanda laugh properly, which is an almost impossibly difficult feat after Vision, how you gave Bucky tips on his arm so it stops hurting him as much, how you coaxed Bruce out of the lab so he could get something to eat, helped out Harley and Peter with their schoolwork when they needed it-"

 

Steve notices distantly that his words are now coming out almost as sobs, as he gasps harshly, tears streaming down his face, "- talked to Sam when he got too in his head, and you even kept track of _me,_ clearly, even when I was absolutely _awful_ to you, just to make sure I'm ok, and I was too much of an asshole to realize it, but _please_ don't leave, _please_ , and maybe you’re entirely fine and just somewhere ignoring me, but if there’s a slim possibility-I can’t- just avoid me if you need to, but just _don't go_ , and- and-"

 

Steve can't continue on, breathes coming sharply, and he sinks down to the base of the door, forehead still pressed to it.

 

" _Please_." He pleads, pretty much begging on his knees at this point, and he falls silent, breathes heavy and sharp, because there's nothing else he can say.

 

"So dramatic Rogers?" comes a weak sounding voice from behind him suddenly, and Steve whirls around, almost falls in his haste to turn.

 

Tony stands there, hologram watching him, eyes glittering wetly and AIs can't cry right? but Steve swears he can see tears, and he feels horrible that they're there.

 

He probably looks like a disgusting mess himself, because Steve knows for a fact that he's not an attractive crier, but he laughs wetly, sniffs. "Well," he says, voice a croak, "You know me. I live for the drama." He wipes clumsily at his eyes, sinks down a bit to sit on the floor, but then Tony walks forward.

 

"No, God, don't do that, the floor is awful, it’s a horrible place to sit, it’s all dusty and gross-’’

And then Steve finds himself being ushered inside to sit on the couch in the corner of the lab.

 

Tony takes a seat beside him, sighs.

 

"You have a lot of history with human Tony I think." He says quietly. "Why don't you start at the beginning."

 

Steve goes to protest, thinking about the past, not being able to let go is kind of what got him into this mess in the first place, but Tony shakes his head sharply.

 

"We’re both worked up right now Steve." He says, voice wavering. "I need time to calm down, before we talk properly, and I’m sure you do too.” he gestures a bit to Steve’s tear-stained cheeks. “I don’t want to say something else that accidentally jabs at a sore spot, and vice versa. You two...seem to have a lot of history, and I want to understand."

 

Steve nods, subdued. Fair enough.

 

He starts at the very beginning, hesitantly at first, and then slowly picking up speed, and holds nothing back, gives Tony everything, every ugly thought and emotion that he hid away to keep the peace, and every beautiful one that never saw the light of day because he worried it gave away too much.

 

Every horrible situation and every wonderful one, Steve tells Tony all of it.

 

He probably starts crying again somewhere around the Civil War, only distantly noticing it really, but he pushes forward and keeps speaking, because he owes Tony this.

 

Tony listens, attentive the entire time, only interjecting at certain points to ask a quiet question, gaze steadfast, calm and unaccusing, even though now they’ve probably been there for hours, and Steve’s voice starts cracking at some point, hoarse from the excessive talking, but he keeps going.

 

Finally he finishes, spent. And he leans back against the back of the couch, having said all he has to say.

 

“Well then.” Tony says after a few seconds, sounding winded. “That is. A lot.” and Steve laughs wetly.

 

“No kidding,” he answers, voice a weak croak, and he wipes at his face again, the tears drying on his cheeks, realizes now how gross he feels, still not changed out of his ripped and battered SHIELD uniform, tired and sweaty. He’s very glad the AI doesn’t have a sense of smell, because Steve can’t imagine he’s very pleasant to be around right now.

 

“There is just _so much_ drama Rogers.” Tony says, shaking his head. “How are you even real.” and Steve laughs. “No seriously, this is soap opera level, you should be in show business. I’ve spoken to Pepper about our past, and not even _she_ gave me this much.” and Steve huffs again, amused despite himself.

 

“What can I say, I guess I’m just special.”

 

“Well that’s _one way_ to look at it.”

 

They sit quietly in comfortable silence, the lights of the lab still mostly off, sitting in darkness.

 

Steve sighs. “I thought I was finally okay,” he says, not looking at Tony, voice small and anguished. Tony sighs, the hologram staring up at the ceiling.

 

“I’m really sorry too, for what it’s worth.” he directs the sentence up at the lights and Steve snaps around to stare at Tony, gives him a look. “ _Don’t_ apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong-”

 

“I said it before and I’ll say it again now Steve, that’s _bullshit_ .” Tony interrupts, staring down at his hands. “I didn’t even _realize_ you would have a legitimate reason for avoiding me. Selfish right?” Tony laughs. “I saw it too y’know? I helped you with a panic attack for fuck's sake! I saw how hard you tried when I started talking to you that day when I was first activated, how you would remove yourself from the situation when it became too much for you. I’m sorry I made light of your hardships when you were already trying your best, sorry I tried to wind you up, sorry I didn’t even _notice_ how much you were struggling.”

 

“Not your responsibility to look after me.” Steve mutters quietly.

 

“Isn’t it?” Tony says, looking over. “My primary objective-” and Steve scoffs loudly.

 

“Shut up about the primary objective already, it’s just _stupid,_ your primary objective should be to look after _yourself_ first and foremost, not some emotionally immature jerk-”

 

“I’m gonna put that self-deprecation aside for now, but don’t think I’m not coming back to that later young man-” Tony interjects, and Steve huffs a bit, almost a laugh but not quite. “-to just say, do you even know how these objectives work?” Tony sounds amused now. “Do you know how coding works you _heathen,_ I can’t just _ignore it_ -”

 

“So change it.” Steve says, and Tony stops talking, looking surprised, but not in a bad way.

 

“Change your code. You’re your own person, and I’m sure a genius like you could manage it. You deserve to live your own life Tony, not to be here running after someone who can’t even see what you’re worth, you don’t have to help out around the compound, don’t have to do anything you don’t want to just because of some pre-set objectives-”

 

Tony hums, contemplative, and Steve breaks off.

 

“Well that’s the thing though. I’m not sure I want to.”

 

Tony looks over at Steve at that, expression calm.

 

"What you said hurt, I will admit, but I think I understand a bit more of where you're coming from now. It's understandable to be upset when someone comes to replace a person you've lost-"

 

"You're not a replacement." Steve interrupts, fiercely, and Tony blinks. "That was dumb. That was stupid. That was _wrong_ . You're _you_ , a person. And I'm sorry I couldn't look past my own problems to see it."

 

"Steve," Tony says, resigned. "I'm an AI. You did have a point with that, I'm not Tony Stark, and considering how much history you two have…"

 

He trails off, forlorn expression on his face and Steve refuses to let that look stay.

 

"No. No I didn't have a point." Steve glares at Tony because he needs to get this across.

 

"Everyone else realized, _everyone_ else saw except for me. Don't try and deny it!" Steve points a finger at Tony when he shrugs, not looking convinced, and Tony raises an amused eyebrow at Steve. "You know I'm right mister, don't argue, the Avengers have fully accepted you into our little dysfunctional family. Everything I said is _bullshit_ Tony, like you kept on saying, you were right, just don't even."

 

Tony smiles at him, light coming back into his eyes, and Steve's so grateful, so glad that his idiotic actions haven't ruined this too.

 

“Thank you Steve." He says and ok no, why is he thanking him-

 

"Why are you thanking me," Steve asks, voice incredulous. "This is like basic courtesy that I couldn't even be bothered to show you-" and then suddenly Tony's laughing at him, and Steve stops talking because the sound is wonderful.

 

"You are an adorable human being." The AI says, giving him a smile. " _Thank you_ Steve." Tony's eyes are sparkling with amusement now, beautiful brown alive with warmth and Steve can feel a blush rising on his cheeks. Tony gives him an amused glance.

 

"My point still stands though. That was quite a bump in the road we just hit, but I'm not sure I want to change those objectives anyways, even if I could, which I’m not entirely sure I can by the way. I think...I’ve found something worth protecting here.” and Tony catches his eye by tilting his head, because Steve’s kind of half looking away now, gives him a smile full of fondness, and Steve feels appallingly unworthy, heartbreakingly tender, but he can’t resist smiling back sadly, eyes welling up again.

 

“Goddamnit-” Steve sniffs, laughing a bit, helplessly, wipes at his eyes, “Goddamnit Tony. I don’t deserve any of that, so just _don’t_ -”

 

“Steve.” and he falls silent. Tony looks at him sternly. “My objectives. My rules.”

 

Steve snorts, looks over at Tony, at his innate- _Tonyness_ and he knows he looks too affectionate, too happy but he can’t _not_ , can’t school his face into something normal and he feels almost too full, bursting with everything, and Steve thinks he’s probably half hysterical at this point, and this is what it feels to be drunk, oscillating between extreme emotions.

 

“Oh god,” Tony laughs as Steve keeps smiling goofily at him. “no, stop looking at me like that Rogers, you look like a pathetic puppy with those big blue eyes of yours, turn that gaze away from my person-” And Steve laughs helplessly, “-no, go away, begone, stop being mush, my code isn’t equipped to deal with this situation-”

 

Tony keeps babbling, but Steve’s stopped hearing it, just enjoying being in this moment, happy and part way loopy with exhaustion, high on the emotional rollercoaster that is today and really, this entire week.

 

“You look at me like that, and I kind of wish I could give you a hug.” Tony says eventually, sadly, waving his hand through Steve’s arm gently, the pixels dissolving as his fingers pass through. Steve looks down at his hands, unable to really feel anything of course, but still touched to the core just from the sentiment, his arm tingling a bit just from the knowledge of Tony’s caress.

 

“I wish I could hug you too.” he looks up at Tony, give him a fond smile. “But here.” he leans over, grabs a throw pillow and hugs it to his chest, giving Tony a cheeky grin over the edge of it. “We’ll just pretend this is you. You give very nice hugs Tony.” he gives him a sincere, wide-eyed look, and Tony bursts into laughter, Steve joining in eventually, and it feels like he’s won the entire world.

 

“I think we’re gonna be okay Steve.” Tony says once their laughter had died down, and Steve understands it for what it is, an olive branch, an extended hand in friendship, forgiveness all in one. He still thinks he’s been let off too easy, but he’s hardly going to complain.

 

“Yeah,” Steve grins at him, tired but happy. “I think we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, well that was one crisis averted. ;)
> 
> I'll probably be posting the next chapter soon, because I realized as I was approaching the word count of around 28,000 that I far surpassed the limit I had wanted to set for each chapter, so I chose a scene change and stopped it there. As a result I already have part of chapter 3 written. Woot woot. XD
> 
> Please tell me what y'all think in the comments below, comments literally give me life, and as always, thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things: 
> 
> 1\. I realized that I've been using the word nano-tech when I really meant nanites, aka I'm a dumb bitch and forgot that nanotechnology could be referring to anything really, as my uni professor had stressed at me, artificial lipid bilayers are called nano-tech too, so just. Ignore that? I'll possibly get around to fixing that when I have the time lol. 
> 
> 2\. All the injuries/science described in this chapter is dubious at best, because I tried to google things, but this particular instance is kind of specific so I couldn't find much information. So I apologize if it's inaccurate :))
> 
> 3\. This chapter kicked my ASS. Oh my God, I literally have no idea if it turned out well or not because I've read it over so many times that EVERYTHING sounds horrible to me. Y'all let me know if it actually is horrible because I really can't tell. XDD
> 
> Anyways, lol enjoy, and thank you for reading :)))
> 
> Steve's POV

Steve wakes up the next morning at around noon, refreshed and content.

 

After their little heart to heart yesterday, Tony and Steve had sat there talking into the early hours of the morning. It was a little bit awkward at first, a little uncertain and stilted, not quite knowing where to draw the line, still strangers really, but they had stubbornly persevered. Steve found that his lowered defenses because of how loopy he was from exhaustion ended up working in his favour, letting him speak freely and without reservation and laugh at things he normally wouldn't have.

 

They had been learning, or rather, for Steve, re-learning each other, the nuances to bantering with Tony, the rise and fall and soothing cadence of his rambling stories, the bright amusement of his eyes as Steve had snarked back, as they had relaxed slowly, slipping into light-hearted conversation, familiar and comfortable. Steve knew that his own insecurities and hangups weren't entirely gone, this extended talk was hardly going to be the cure-all for something like that, but for now, the dark looming cloud of it is pushed far back, dissipated a bit, wounds aired out. He stays in the moment, in conversation with Tony, wouldn't ever want to be anywhere else.

 

It was around two or three in the morning before Tony finally noticed just how exhausted Steve looked. Tired as he was, Steve still hadn't wanted to leave so he hadn't said a word about it, powering through his sleepiness, and Tony quickly shooed him off to go take a shower and rest.

 

"Star-spangled _dumbass."_ He heard Tony mutter exasperatedly.

 

Steve had left feeling lighter than he had in ages.

 

Now he just lies there amidst comfy sheets, perfectly content where he is, reluctant to move. He feels lazy, and happy, the bone deep exhaustion and weight from yesterday gone. The sunlight filters in from the window, and Steve watches the play of light beams dappled on the ceiling and his bedsheets. His hand itches to sketch it, the dance of rays shining in through the curtains, dust particles floating through the air, peaceful.

 

He lays there for a couple more minutes, and finally drags himself out of bed when his hunger becomes too much to ignore. Steve had been caught up in the argument and then so exhausted afterwards that he had completely foregone food last night, just collapsing on his bed and was out like a light two seconds later.

 

He walks down the halls of the compound and is surprised to find that he’s actually the first person up, despite the fact that it’s now almost afternoon. Everyone else is probably still sleeping in, and Steve figures after the harrowing battle yesterday, it’s a much deserved rest, especially considering how late in the evening the debriefing had dragged to. It’s a testament to how little sleep Steve’s serum enhanced body needs, the fact that he’s the first up despite his late bedtime.

 

Steve wanders leisurely into the kitchen, deciding to make everyone some breakfast. He grabs the nearest apron, pulls out some pots and pans, and gets to mixing some pancake batter, humming happily to himself, the quiet whirring of the refrigerator providing pleasing background noise.

 

Suddenly, there’s a snort of laughter from nowhere and Steve grins, not looking up from his mixing bowl.

 

“Good morning.” he says cheerfully, smiling down into the batter.

 

"You call this time of day ‘morning’, Rogers?" comes the reply, picking up their lighthearted snarking tone right where it left off from yesterday, and Tony’s hologram flickers into view beside Steve. “You are a disgrace to all things apple pie and American, not being up at the ass-crack of dawn, it is a disgrace Steve, _disgrace_.” He gives Tony an innocent look, smiling mildly. “No don’t give me that smile, it’s too late. I’m disillusioned. You’ve tarnished your wholesome reputation. Dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow and all that.”

 

Steve gives a startled laugh, actually able to understand that reference.

 

“You’ve watched that movie? I’m surprised.” he says, and Tony gives him an unspeakably offended look, which is hilarious.

 

“I have unparalleled reign of the internet, and you think that the first thing I did _wasn’t_ to search up every cultural reference in this century? Weak.”

 

“Ah yes. Of course, my apologies. I see you’ve made very productive use of your time then.”

 

“You bet your star-spangled ass I have.” and Steve laughs again, flicking a bit of batter at Tony (which goes through him of course) when he starts moving his hand through the mixing bowl absently, fingers pixelating as it goes into the metal. Tony watches the batter land on the counter behind him and then turns to give Steve another offended look.

 

“Stop that. No phasing into the food. New house rule.” Steve says, miming swatting at Tony’s head, who ducks obligingly even though there is no real threat to his person. Steve grabs a ladle and a spatula, and sets to work cooking the batter.

 

“Nice apron by the way.” Tony comments amusedly after a minute of slightly awkward, but not unbearable silence, grinning at Steve’s chest.

 

Steve looks down, a bit confused since he hadn’t really given it a second glance when he had grabbed it, and snorts when he realizes that he’s wearing a frilly pink apron with lace designs on the seams. It’s kind of hard to read upside down and backwards, but Steve’s pretty sure it says, ‘I’ll feed all you fuckers’ in calligraphy on the front. He doesn’t know why the Avengers own an apron like this, but he has to admit, he’s glad they do.

 

“Thanks,” he says, flipping a pancake over expertly. “Latest fashion. All the hip and cool kids are wearing them.”

 

“I will pay you a hundred dollars if you never utter the words “hip and cool kids” ever again in my presence.”

 

“Aww golly Tones, ya can’t handle a little bit a slang?” Steve drawls and then grins widely when Tony’s mouth drops open.

 

“No. Just no. That is forever exiled. That accent. Not allowed. It’s illegal Steve, stop breaking the law.”

 

“‘M just talkin’”

 

“Breaking. The. Law.”

 

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but then stops when someone stumbles haphazardly into the kitchen, apparently still partly asleep. Steve and Tony watch, amused, as Bucky pokes at the coffee maker, not noticing Steve or Tony at all, or otherwise noticing and ignoring them completely.

 

“Well this is familiar,” Steve mutters, smiling fondly, and Tony gives him a confused look.

 

“Original flavour Tony used to do this all the time.” Steve decides to say lightly after a short pause of contemplation, but he can feel himself tense a bit anyways as he waits to see if the joke will be well received. He’s still not entirely sure where they stand, if they can joke about that kind of thing.

 

“Original flavour Tony?” Tony snorts in response, unbothered. “The fuck is he, Pringles??” and Steve relaxes incrementally, stifling his laughter with the hand that isn’t flipping pancakes.

 

“I dunno how well those would sell. Not sure the goatee would look that good on the Pringles man.” Tony gasps, offended.

 

“You take that back!”

 

Bucky groans from where he is currently face-planted into the counter and Steve and Tony turn again to watch him. “You guys are so cheerful. It’s _awful_.”

 

“Shut it and drink your coffee.”

 

“I _would_ but _there is no coffee_ .” Bucky pokes forlornly again at the empty coffee maker. _"There is no hope._ "

 

Tony rolls his eyes lightheartedly, flicks his fingers and the coffee maker starts with a splutter.

 

Bucky makes a satisfied grunting noise and then goes back to his faceplant on the counter. He mutters something that may have been a muffled 'thanks asshole', which Tony snickers at, unoffended, watching Bucky with a fond smile.

 

Steve watches the both of them in turn, feeling unbearably warm and sappy, at how they're interacting, snarking, how Tony seems to just belong. This is what he had been missing for the entire week Steve was hung up on the past, this sense of family, this happiness? Steve could kick himself, but he has it now, and he doesn't plan on letting it go. There are still reservations of course, little twinges of hurt, but the price paid is worth it in the end.

 

Tony and Steve go back to small talk after that, Steve eventually plating the truly impressively gigantic stack of pancakes (They all eat a lot. _A lot_.) and setting the table while Tony turns off the stove remotely.

 

He decides to put a variety of topping options out, pulling out a carton of berries after moment of contemplation, dumping them out into a bowl to wash.

 

By the time Steve has finished cutting up all the fruit and laying out the plates, most of the Avengers have trickled into the kitchen, all gathered around the kitchen table, talking quietly and laughing, Peter included, who, with Aunt May’s permission, had crashed at the compound for the night because of how exhausted he had been. Bucky has returned to some resemblance of a human being, and is now in conversation with Sam and Wanda. Bruce is making some more coffee, and Peter and Harley are scribbling on Peter’s cast with a sharpie. Tony has drifted over and is making commentary on what they’re writing over their shoulders, him and Harley snarking at each other.

 

Steve sets down the newly brewed carafe of coffee that Bruce handed him to put on the table and goes to get the whipped cream and syrup, but Sam stops him before he can move away. Sam gives him a questioning look, Bucky watching the proceedings from where he’s sipping from his coffee cup, eyes worried. Steve takes the looks for what it is, them checking in on if he’s truly okay, how he’s joking happily now with Tony and if it’s only an act, if he needs to get away like he had been doing for the last week.

 

“It’s alright,” Steve says quietly, gives them a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell you guys later, but we’re good now. I’m good.”

 

Bucky smiles, and Sam nods, satisfied with the answer and they go back to bickering like always. Steve wanders back to Bruce with a happy smile curling his lips, and they prepare the rest of the toppings together side by side at the counter in comfortable silence.

 

“I’m glad you’re getting along better now,” is all Bruce says before he sits down, giving Steve a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

 

Wanda gives him a smile as he sets down a bowl of whipped cream on the table near her.

 

“Thanks for the pancakes Steve.” she says. Then notices what his apron says and starts laughing so hard she almost topples over.

 

“What, what happened?” Harley asks, not looking up from where he’s doodling a picture of a spider on Peter’s cast.

 

Wanda waves vaguely at Steve’s chest through her snickering, and Steve rolls his eyes as he goes to put away the berry cartons.

 

“Steve’s decked out like a little wife is what, all dolled up in lace.” Tony drawls, lifting his head from where he’s watching Harley draw, and smirking at Steve to the chorus of “oooohs” that take over the kitchen, Peter and Harley the loudest of all the Avengers. Tony raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to respond. It's a challenge if he's ever seen one.

 

Steve’s first instinct, his first reflex is to blush and splutter, and honestly Steve probably still blushes a bit, but it’s been several years since he’s become friends with original Tony, several years since he’s been someone that would fluster easily with a couple of well said words. Steve instead quickly schools his expression into a blank look. His conversations with Tony might still be a bit awkward at times, still not sure what he's allowed to say, not wanting to break the unstable friendship with a wrong sentence, but _this_ , the tradeoff of challenges, _this_ he can do. And he refuses to let Tony win.

 

“Well, looks like someone is sleeping on the couch tonight.” he says haughtily, walking towards the apron cupboard. Honestly, as verbal comebacks go, it’s definitely not the most original or witty, but the Avengers react as if it is, even louder “ooohs” echoing around the kitchen.

 

Steve makes sure his back is to Tony when he finally opens the cupboard, struggling not to break into a smile as he looks Tony dead in the eyes, coy, over his shoulder, and starts slowly undoing the ties on the back of the apron.

 

Steve knows he most likely looks ridiculous, in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, undoing a gaudy pink apron as if it’s lingerie, but he’s not trying to look like anything else, and it pays off when Peter almost snorts orange juice up his nose. Harley has buried his face on the tabletop, shoulders shaking in silent laughter, Wanda, Sam and Bucky are not even trying to restrain themselves. Even Bruce is snickering into his hand.

 

Tony’s mouth is twitching from where he’s watching Steve, hologram having walked over to lean (or appear to lean) back against the counter, dark, expressive eyes watching him intently and sparking with amusement.

 

Sam wolf whistles loudly, as Steve finally finishes undoing the straps, pulls the apron off slowly, and whirls it twice over his head like one might do for a shirt, whips it into the cupboard, his impeccable aim ensuring it catches on the clothing hook neatly.

 

There’s sarcastic applause from all around the table, more whistles, and Steve takes an exaggerated bow, finally breaking into laughter when Tony flutters his hand near his face in response, pretending to be flustered.

 

“Breakfast and a show.” He simpers, hand to forehead like he’s swooning, and Steve laughs harder, finally taking a seat at the table. The team has left an empty one for Tony, which has become a habit, even though Tony doesn’t need one, because it’s really the principle of the matter. It’s a bit like leaving an empty seat for an imaginary friend Steve has to admit, but allows Tony to join in on their conversations (from the little Steve had seen anyways, since he had spent a lot of time hiding in his room) in his holographic form so they do it anyways.

 

The rest of breakfast goes in much the same way, full of happy conversations and laughter, discussing how Scott will be back from his trip with his family in a couple days, plans for the rest of the Sunday, Bucky’s mission.

 

“You sure you don’t need backup man?” Sam asks at some point or another, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

 

“Gee, it’s not like I worked for seventy years as a highly skilled assassin or anything.” He deadpans and Sam slaps him on the arm in response.

 

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a little help-”

 

“No can do, _Cap,_ the team needs their leader.” Bucky interrupts, which is a good point, but Sam scoffs.

 

“They’ve got _Steve_ , they’ll be fine.”

 

“Leave me alone, I’m old and retired.” Everyone laughs, and after a bit more back and forth bickering, the topic is switched to more mundane things.

 

When breakfast ends, Bruce and Wanda shoo everyone out of the kitchen so they can clean up, so Steve finds himself standing a bit aimlessly in the hallway, after he had been banned from helping (“no Steve.” Wanda gives him a stern look. “You cooked breakfast, you are not allowed to do the dishes too. Get.”).

 

Peter had been the first to dash off, citing he has homework, although Steve kind of suspects it’s just an excuse to escape the rest of the Avenger’s collective mother-henning. Bucky and Sam left a couple of minutes after to get prepared to leave for his mission, Sam picking up the “you need backup” argument where he left off, and Harley had mentioned promising to help out a friend with a school project.

 

Left to his own devices, Steve stands there for a couple more minutes, thinking over if he has any prior obligations and wondering what he should do. After some contemplation, he finally decides he should go see Bucky off (read: make sure Sam and Bucky haven’t killed each other) before he leaves.

 

He walks down the hall towards Bucky’s room, and sure enough, already he can hear the sounds of excessive arguing through the doorway. Steve snorts a little to himself as he taps on the open door to announce his presence. Some things never change.

 

“Stevie!” Bucky says, jumping up from the bed where his unpacked clothes are strewn all over the place. “Can you please tell mama bear over there that I will be _fine_ doing this mission alone?”

 

“Oh, don’t you bring Steve into this you little shit, you know it wouldn’t hurt you to have a little help-”

 

“Do I need to go fetch the ‘Get Along’ shirt again?” Steve interrupts amusedly, and both Sam and Bucky’s heads snap over to look at Steve in comical synchronized horror.

 

“ _No_ . No Steve, that was a joke at the beginning, that was a _two-year old_ joke, it is done and over now, just no-”

 

“To be fair, we should’ve figured he was enough of a little shit to _actually get us a fucking ‘get along’ shirt_ -”

 

“If you ever ACTUALLY use it on us, you are disowned, we will disown you.”

 

“I wasn’t aware I was ACTUALLY owned by you two in the first place,” Steve laughs and Bucky scowls.

 

“We will adopt you with the single-minded purpose of disowning you, punk.”

 

“That seems-”

 

“Disowned!”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, amused. “Just come to a decision already, we’re kinda losing daylight.”

 

Which was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Sam and Bucky go straight back to arguing. Steve sighs and settles himself in to listen.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind Steve?” Sam asks an hour later, standing in front of an inconspicuous car with Bucky in the driver’s seat, both of them dressed in civilian clothing, with tactical gear packed tightly in the trunk.

 

That particular argument about backup had been won by Sam after he had ended up flying away with said tactical gear, refusing to return it until Bucky agreed to let him come. There had been a lot of shouting and running around and at some point Bruce, Peter, and Wanda had stuck their heads out of their respective windows of the second floor to watch the commotion.

 

“Tony’s recording y’all, just fair warning,” Peter had shouted out of the window at Sam and Bucky, and then ducked back in, laughing.

 

Well, Steve had never claimed that their decision making process is mature, but hey it seems to work for them because here they are, packed and ready to go.

 

“I know we kind of sprung this on you, you’re retired and you didn’t really ask for it…”

 

Steve waves Sam’s worries away. “It’s fine, the mission is first and foremost, and it’s not as if I’m not used to leading already. Besides, you won’t be gone for long.”

 

“We need to get you a new title in that case, punk.” Bucky says thoughtfully. “ _Commander_ Rogers has a nice ring to it, I think.” and Steve winces comically.

 

“Um no.” He mutters. “I don’t think you’re allowed to just _decide_ to be a commander, Buck. And I am _definitely_ not ready for that.”

 

He waves them off after that, to the sounds of Sam saying “try not to rip the steering wheel _off_ this time asshole” with stern orders not to be dumb(“oh you’re one to talk Rogers”) and watches them drive out of the hangar.

 

He shuts the hangar door after them, and then goes upstairs, planning to get some sketching in, but he doesn’t even last ten minutes before he starts feeling the absence of human company acutely.

 

He has those days where Steve doesn’t want to stay inside his own head, where he wants to be around laughter and human company, so after a moment of contemplation, he finally tilts his head back to direct his next question at the ceiling.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Yes, oh captain my captain?” and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“Are you free at the moment?”

 

“Um...technically? Yes, because I can multitask, but also no.” Tony says. There’s a brief pause and then:  “holographic me is currently helping Peter with his homework, and by helping, I mean watching as Peter insists he can write things without the function of a right hand, and stubbornly refusing to let me record his answers electronically.”

 

Steve laughs a bit at Tony’s disgruntled and exasperated tone.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Hmm?” Steve holds in a snort at Tony’s distracted hum, clearly in the middle of trying to argue with Peter. “Would you like some help?”

 

“ _Please._ ”

 

Steve puts down his sketchbook and pencil, and sets off towards Peter’s room in the compound, can hear them bickering before he even gets to the door. He knocks on it, but none of the inhabitants of the room seems to hear it, so after a moment of contemplation, he just opens it without invitation.

 

“-you can just hand in a printed copy, I don’t see what the big deal is.” Tony’s hologram is in the middle of saying, hovering over Peter’s shoulder, who is currently clutching the pencil in his left hand with a wobbly grip. Peter shakes his head earnestly.

 

“I’ve been practicing anyways with writing with my left hand, Tony, I can do it, I know I can, just watch-”

 

Peter starts writing some math equations shakily, a determined look on his face, tongue between his teeth, and Tony hovers worriedly over his shoulder, hand reaching out as if he wants to steady the pencil, even though he’s not solid.

 

The image is so parental that Steve has to laugh. Peter looks up, surprised, and then smiles when he realizes it’s Steve.

 

“Steve!” he says happily, “Look, I’m working on being ambidextrous.” Peter waves his pencil at him and then his smile turns a bit sheepish. “Actually, it could be going better but, well. Win some lose some.”

 

Tony’s expression is so pained at this point as Peter goes back to writing that Steve can barely hold in the rest of his laughter, shoulders shaking with the effort of it.

 

“Um, you sure you don’t want some help there bud?” Steve says, voice full of amusement as he watches Peter lean heavily on his pencil, face contorting when the writing goes wonky. Tony gives Steve an annoyed look when he notices how Steve’s still struggling not to laugh at Tony’s expression, to which he responds with a shrug.

 

Peter doesn’t answer at first, still concentrating on the writing and finally sighs, setting down his pencil in defeat.

 

“Yeah okay, yes please.” He says, snickering. “If I keep going like this, it’s gonna be tomorrow morning by the time I finish the work.”

 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Tony says in a faux-offended tone as Steve goes to sit down beside Peter. “Tony the AI gets a ‘no, I swear I can do it Tony’, but Steve the Captain America gets a ‘yes please’?”

 

Steve frowns and mouths ‘Steve the captain america’ at Tony because why, and Peter rolls his eyes in good humour and says “Handwritten, Tony. Because they’re worried about cheating. Handwritten. Means written by hand. With no electricity involved.”

 

Tony snorts. “As if I couldn’t forge your handwriting.” Peter and Steve both swivel to look at the AI incredulously, both with slightly worried expressions on their faces.

 

“Oh come on, like this is new information?”

 

Steve shrugs. “Point.”

 

“And the ink?” Peter asks, handing Steve his pencil.  

 

“As if I couldn’t manufacture a graphite printer.”

 

Steve snorts and helps Peter turn to a page in the notebook that isn’t covered with misshapen scribbles.

 

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble for me Tony.” Peter says quietly after a moment.

 

“Trouble? Who’s going to any trouble?” Tony grumbles in response. “It would take like max, two seconds, you realize the lab has a place where original Tony manufactured all his prototypes, this isn’t new information right, you know this?”

 

“Still, there’s no point when my arm would be all healed up in a week or two.” Peter says with a shrug, flipping through his textbook. He pauses, looks back up at the AI. “...thank you though, for offering. And I haven’t said this yet but…what you did for me in the battle too. Thank you.”

 

Tony’s face softens at that, looking a bit surprised as he smiles hesitantly at Peter. Steve distantly remembers, as he watches them, as Peter tentatively smiles back warmly, how Peter hadn’t seemed that comfortable around Tony either in the first week of his arrival (still did better than Steve though), the similarities between the AI and the human making it difficult for Peter as well. This was a marked improvement based on what he had seen.

 

“Anytime at all, kid.” Tony says quietly, voice unbearably gentle, and Peter goes back to flipping through his textbook, happy grin plastered on his face.

 

“Oh here.” Peter says, as he finally stops on a page of questions. “The homework sections said to do 8.3 to 8.6…”

And after that there was only the quiet scritch of Steve’s pencil on paper as he writes out equations based on what Peter says to write down, and the sound of Peter and Tony squabbling and snarking at each other over high school physics questions.

 

“-write down the equation Steve-”

 

“-don’t you _dare_ Steve, that’s completely wrong, this question makes no logical sense for a high schooler, what kind of-”

 

“It’s still my homework Tony, this is what they told us to do-”

 

Steve puts down his pencil in the face of their indecision and smiles happily to himself as he listens to them, the sun casting it’s rays through the window, lining everything in gold.

 

* * *

 

Things get better after that, way better.

 

Steve starts spending time with Tony more, pretty much seeking him out everyday for the next week, making up for lost days, re-learning him. He ends up spending a lot of time with Bruce and Tony in the lab and workshop, because that’s where he can find Tony more often than not.

 

He makes sure to take time for himself when he feels like he needs it, overly conscious of the fact that this friendship between him and Tony is tentative at best, still a fragile, delicate thing. He does the same old thing he always does(Steve never claimed to be a particularly exciting guy), goes for runs around the compound, sketches on the balconies, continues with training for Peter and Harley, works out in the gym, and when he feels like he’s fine, he’ll wander back, ready to rejoin the fray. Tony seems to understand, and leaves him to it.

 

There’s a couple dodgy moments, because there’s always bound to be this early on, a minor comment or a sentence that jabs in a wrong spot, and Steve will tense, or Tony will become quiet. It helps that they know neither of them are doing it on purpose, and it never comes to anything too bad, one of them backtracking, or talking it out with the other.

 

“No, shh, it’s ok,” Tony says hurriedly the first time it happens, a joke that cuts a little close to the quick. “We can do this, we’re talking this out, like mature adults right? Just no judgement here, we’ll talk this out, we’ll be fine, here see, we’re talking, we say words that are constructive and, and meaningful yes.” And Steve had laughed quietly, and complied.  

 

Mature and healthy conversations between the two of them. Steve never thought he’d see the day.

 

So like that, things progress. At some point, Steve goes to Manhattan for a day, considering the compound is still kind of removed from the busiest portions of the city, and visits Pepper and Happy in the SI offices, brings them some food, and they sit for a while and chat before Pepper has to head off to another meeting.

 

Afterwards, he wanders the streets a bit, hood up, and it’s amazing to see how quickly the city has rebuilt, sidewalk crowded with life once more, New Yorkers still just as resilient as they’ve always been. He sees a lot of Iron Man art plastered on city walls, and he pauses every time he sees those murals, allows himself a small smile before moving on.

 

It’s towards the end of the week when another call to assemble happens.

 

Scott ends up arriving back at the compound a couple days after Sam and Bucky leave for their mission. Tony, Bruce and Steve had been in the lab at the time and there was a moment of panic where Bruce couldn’t remember if he had told him about AI Tony or not.

 

“..Yes? Yes. Yes I did.” Bruce had nodded, after Tony had notified them that Scott had just rang in, looking uncertain. “Yes, I remember asking Scott about how his trip was going during the phone call, that was something that had happened.”

 

They sat in silence for a second, staring at each other worriedly while Tony looked on, thoroughly amused.

 

“Y’know, I’m gonna go welcome Scott back to the compound.” Steve finally said, flipping his sketchbook closed and getting off his stool. Bruce bobbed his head.

 

“Yes, good, you go do that, he likes Captain America. I’m just gonna be here with Tony, doing...science things.”

 

Steve had nodded in response, walking to the door.

 

“You.” He directed this at Tony, who pointed at himself, mock surprised. “Don’t do anything. Just.”

 

“What could I _possibly_ do, I’m the perfect angel-” his shit-eating grin belying everything he said and Steve rolls his eyes, jogging hurriedly down the halls to the front door.

 

It had all turned out fine though, because although Bruce apparently hadn’t gotten around to actually telling Scott _who_ the AI actually was, Scott hadn’t been anything but happy to see Tony back in some form or another. That makes sense, the two hadn’t really known each other much beyond fighting in an airport and then a team-up before the final battle. For them it’s a blank slate, a new friendship with no baggage.

 

Scott eventually ends up in a cheerful conversation with Tony and Bruce about the quantum realm that ends up going a little over Steve’s head, so after a few minutes of squinting at them in confusion, he excuses himself with a smile and a shake of his head. He’s not really sure what he’s gonna do now as he wanders around the compound, a little bit listlessly if he’s gonna be honest, but Steve’s sure he’ll eventually think of something.

 

He’s on his...third? Fourth? Aimless lap when they get the call to assemble, and Steve’s head snaps up in surprise as the alarm blares, echoing down the halls of the compound, remembering at the last second that Bucky and Sam had left a few days ago so now _he_ was. Ok yeah.

 

“Avengers assemble!” Steve yells, already dashing to change into his uniform, still the SHIELD one, and there’s a bit of fumbling, but ten minutes later all the Avengers are on the quinjet headed to the site, with Steve piloting and simultaneously arguing with Spiderman over comms to _“stand down, you have a broken arm-”_

 

“Steve, you’re literally missing two members already, you _need_ me to be there-”

 

“No, what I need you to do is to _heal_ up your _broken arm_ before you throw yourself back into danger-”

 

“You NEED BACKUP, you _can’t_ take on whatever it is with just the _four of you_ -”

 

“ _PETER.”_ and the comms fall silent. Steve sighs, not wanting to have had to yell, but not having much of a choice. He is _not_ going to put a _kid_ back into the fight when he’s still injured, however much they might need it.  “I’ve already called in SHIELD, they’re sending backup, it won’t just be us. I get what you’re saying, but with the way you are right now, I’m sorry, but you’re going to be a liability more than a help, and you’re only going to end up injuring yourself further. You need to stand down, just for now. I can’t have you, after last time, I _can’t-_ ”

 

Steve breaks himself off sharply, jaw clenched and goes back to concentrating on flying the quinjet.

 

“Alright.” Peter says quietly after a moment of tense silence.

 

“Alright?” Steve repeats, kind of incredulously, expecting more of a fight.

 

“Yeah, I...get what you’re saying. But, just... _please_ be careful.”

 

“We will.”

 

“And...could you...call in Iron Man?” Steve blinks, and wonders why he’s so surprised at the suggestion, his brain having written that particular incident as a one-off kind of thing. Of course, if Tony were to decide he _wants_ to use the armour, there’s probably nothing on this Earth that could stop him, so the point would be entirely moot, but the question here is...whether or not to ask him to come in.

 

He can feel the tendrils of hesitation creeping up, a couple of small reservations.

 

But _no._ Steve told himself he would be all in when it comes to the AI after that first argument, his own hang-ups be damned, he’s _going_ to make an effort with this, so he resolutely powers through the reflex trepidation and dread, makes himself systematically run through all of his excuses on why it would be a bad idea, decides most of them are kind of bullshit. Just him stalling.

 

All in.

 

Steve glances over at Scott, Wanda, and Bruce sitting behind him, asking silently for their opinions as well. Bruce shrugs.

 

“I will if it comes to that.” Steve finally promises quietly, deciding it as a last resort, not wanting to alert the media to another Iron Man(they got lucky the first time) if this turns out to be just a one-and-done mission. The promise seems to appease Peter, who finally signs off with a last plea to be careful.

 

Steve spends the last stretch of the journey debriefing the rest of the Avengers on what they’re up against, a minor group of villains and their henchmen causing havoc in Manhattan, doesn’t seem like anything they can’t handle.

 

“Sorry about calling you in two seconds after you arrive back Scott.” Wanda says at one point and Scott shrugs.

 

“Well, after so long, let’s just say I’m as well-rested and ready as I could be.”

 

They join the fray as soon as they manage to land the quinjet, and Steve pauses after he activates his staff, quickly tapping into a private line on the comms after giving out a plan of attack to the rest of the Avengers.

 

“Tony?”

 

There’s a pause, and then a slightly sheepish “Yeah Steve?”

 

Steve snorts, jumping into the fight. “You were listening in weren’t you?”

 

“I resent these accusations, the _idea_ that I would _eavesdrop-_ ” Steve interrupts with an unconvinced hum as he dodges a kick from his opponent.

 

“....ok, yes I was, _but_ -”

 

“Good.”

 

There’s a moment of shocked silence from Tony, where Steve continues to fight, (and really, at this point Steve’s barely paying attention but still holding his own, they’re kind of awful at hand-to-hand combat) and then;

 

“Come again?”

 

“I said good; I’m glad you were listening in, because that means I don’t have to repeat everything I said. You heard Peter’s suggestion?”

 

“...yes I did.”

 

“And everything I debriefed the rest of the team on?”

 

“Yeah of course I - Steve are you going somewhere with this?”

 

“Well, maybe just stand down for now, in case this is a minor fight. We don’t really know what the backlash from the media and public will be if there’s a seeming replacement for Iron Man, and I _really_ don’t want any journalists sniffing around asking questions about who’s piloting the armour because who knows what trouble _that_ could cause, but if there’s a need-”

 

Steve breaks himself off with an oof as one of his opponents manages to get a good kick in.

 

“-it’s fine, I’m fine-”

 

“Steve? Am I misunderstanding this, tell me I’m hearing this incorrectly, because it sounds like you’re saying-”

 

“Yes.” Steve’s barely out of breath, even as he flips two of the people he’s fighting into a wall. The serum is a miracle worker. “I’m asking you to come in as Iron Man if we need it. How long would it theoretically take for you to get here?”

 

“Theoretically? Um. Two seconds?”

 

Steve pauses in surprise, and almost gets punched for his troubles. Berating himself, he puts more attention on the fight, taking down another opponent quickly.

 

“What?”

 

“Human Tony kept a suitcase Iron Man suit in the quinjet Steve, I’m literally technically already there.”

 

Steve laughs, and shakes his head, because of _course_ Tony did. He pays for that when a henchman nearest growls at him, evidently thinking Steve’s laughing at him, and slams (or attempts to slam) a fist towards his face. Steve blocks with his staff deftly, and promptly jabs his opponent in the ribs with the electrified tip, making sure the setting is on low so he doesn’t accidentally kill him. He drops to the floor like a bag of potatoes.

 

“Alright then." Steve whirls his staff, sending another person flying. "It’s your call Shellhead. Join the Avengers comms, I want your input on this entire mission and as for the other thing...whenever you’re ready.”

 

There’s silence from Tony’s end, and for a second Steve wonders worriedly if he had gone too far, if he had asked too much of the AI, but then there’s a quiet, joking question. “Shellhead?”

 

Steve chuckles, partly in relief. “New nickname. I figured it worked better than Tin Can. Has a nice ring to it.”

 

Steve shuts off the private comms on Tony’s indignant spluttering with a smirk and puts his concentration back on the fight.

 

“Everyone, status report.”

 

It’s honestly very routine, and even a little tedious, since most of the hench, um people?? Hench-people sure, let’s go with that, aren’t that well trained in combat situations.

 

At this point the Avengers comms are filled with more bantering then strategy, and Steve has to keep reminding everyone to pay attention and take this seriously. The only thing that makes the fight a bit of a struggle is the sheer number of followers the villains seem to have, and that in itself is a bit worrying, but Steve figures he’ll dwell on it later when he’s not essentially playing tag with the elusive leaders of a supervillain group, who are evidently trying to avoid confrontation with the Avengers as much as they can.

 

They have a goal, Steve’s almost sure they do, but right now there’s no detectable pattern, just seems to be a bunch of...disorganized destruction.

 

Hmm. Steve watches as one of the gaudily dressed villains cowers behind a half destroyed wall when Wanda levitates after him, getting captured easily. He’s cuffed and taken to the waiting vehicle. Maybe Steve’s giving them too much credit.

 

“ _You._ ”

 

Steve suddenly feels a blast of energy slam him to the ground, taken completely by surprise, and he curses when he realizes he let himself get distracted. It’s painful, and he can feel where his skin is blistering and burning, but mortality wise, he’s still ok.

 

“I’m fine.” He rasps into the comms in answer to everyone’s worried shouts, and he quickly grabs his staff and gets to cover as there’s another shot to where he was.

 

He looks around, noting the trajectory of the hit, finally sees the culprit, a woman in a black suit, levitating.

 

“Fucking cowering imbeciles,” She snarls to herself, looking at her teammates who are rapidly being detained one by one, but of course Steve’s hearing picks it up, and that’s all he has time to think before the villainess finally sees him, and launches herself at him in ruthless pursuit.

 

He dodges the shots from her arm braces, gets close enough to warrant hand to hand combat, and engages in a fight with her. She’s worryingly good, and she manages to get a few shots in, but once the rest of the Avengers seem to realize where the real threat is and converge, there isn’t really a competition. She’s fast, and dodges hits from all of them, shooting back, but it’s only a matter of time before one of them lands, and then it’ll be over.

 

That’s where it goes wrong.

 

Backed into a corner, on the verge of defeat, snarling and desperate, Steve sees the villainess pull out a small black orb, no bigger than the palm of her hand, and slam it onto her wrists. A gelatinous, very _familiar_ shimmering material bursts forward, encompassing her arms up to her shoulders.

 

All of a sudden, the routine battle no longer seems so harmless.

 

The material stretches, slams forward past her arm movement and knocks Scott and Wanda back easily, both unprepared. They hit the pavement with a sickening sound, and Steve immediately moves forward to stop her, to block them from her when she makes a motion to strike again, dread coiling in his stomach, mind racing, but before any of them can react, she shoots forward and grabs him in a viselike grip instead, and takes off.

 

Steve tries to break free before she gets to too high of an altitude, tries to fight back, but her grip is like steel, hard and unyielding, the nano-tech lending her unparalleled strength, and he can feel the substance creeping off her arms to hold him in an uncompromising grip, crawling towards his neck, and there’s the dizzying flying and dodging she’s doing, the wind cold and merciless, slashing at him at breakneck speeds, and Steve can barely breathe enough to speak, can barely get enough air from the way he’s being crushed-

 

“I lost _everything_ because of you.” she hisses at him, hands around his neck as they continue to climb higher and higher. “Everything. Hydra might be dead, but _I'_ m still here, and I’ll be damned if I let you _live_.”

 

Steve can feel the shock distantly when she mentions Hydra, he wracks his oxygen deprived brain for something, some hint of recognition of the agent, but there is none. She smiles, and Steve can see the insanity in her eyes, the cold intelligence and burning fury.

 

“Do you know how it feels Captain, to be _inside_ a nanite suit when it _self-destructs_ ?” Steve can distantly feel himself still struggling, vision going dark, black spots growing in his eyes as he’s choked to death by the glimmering gelatinous substance, as they climb higher and higher and the air grows thinner and colder, and there’s no way that any of his teammates could get to him in time and he hopes desperately that Wanda and Scott are okay and he can’t help but think _I’m sorry Peter_ because from where he’s looking his chances aren’t good at all-

 

“Hail hydra” she whispers, a sharp hiss, and let’s go.

 

The nanites encase him, not completely, but enough to do damage, and Steve falls, wind rushing past his ears, everywhere the suit is touching starting to burn, searing and sizzling, and he would scream in pain but there’s no air, and he blacks out, he must have because everything seems to fade far away, the noise and the wind and the burning and-

 

There’s a sharp crack of sound, Steve registers it distantly as he swims in and out of consciousness and he’s still falling and then quite unexpectedly-

 

Something is peeling away from his searing skin, the wind changes direction, and there’s no longer that swooping feeling of free fall, just impact and sudden, strong arms around him, holding him, cradling him gently behind his back and under his knees, and he sees a flash of red and gold, the blessedly cool metal against his chemically burned skin, half delirious-

 

“Tony.” he whispers, and thinks _safe, I’m safe_ , his voice snatched away by the wind, and then gratefully, passes out.

 

* * *

 

He becomes aware of his surroundings slowly, registering the feeling of a blanket pulled up to his chest, soft sheets beneath his fingers, and the feel of bandages and a soreness that lingers at his throat and arms, hears the soft voices of conversation in the room.

 

He opens his eyes slowly, squinting a bit against the bright lights and sees Scott, Wanda and Bruce sitting at his bedside, still in their battered uniforms and gear, Bruce on the floor leaning against a wall since they don’t seem to have a chair reinforced enough for him yet.

 

None of them seem to have noticed he’s awake so Steve shifts a little, intending to sit up, but hisses when his bandages shift, irritating his skin, a sharp stab of pain shooting through him.

 

Immediately, there are about three worried Avengers telling him to stop moving in a flurry of voices and movement as they notice he’s awake, and Wanda, who’s the nearest to him, firmly but gently pushes him back onto his pillows.

 

“What happened?” Steve says, rasps really, and he realizes his voice is still hoarse. They must have done a number on him if he’s not completely healed yet.

 

“Iron Man got to you in time.” Bruce says quietly, voice full of worry, and Steve remembers a flash memory of Tony’s voice murmuring in his ear, of cool metal-

 

“We’re not entirely sure what happened because Tony flew you to SHIELD medical and then had to book it before the press got here,” Bruce continues, and Steve can’t help but feel an irrational pang of sadness that Tony couldn’t be here, even though Steve knows there’s a good reason for it, that Tony can’t be seen by the public. “and the rest of the time we were concentrating on apprehending the rest of the villains, but by the time they got you stabilized you had severe chemical burns. The serum is the only reason you’re not dead.”

 

Steve shifts a bit, trying again to sit up with minimal movement of his upper body, and this time Wanda helps him, shifting the pillow so he can lean against it. He murmurs a quiet thanks and Wanda gives him a shaky smile.

 

“And...” Steve pauses, not really knowing what to call her, but Scott seems to understand, offering the information somberly.

 

“She got away.”

 

“She was a former HYDRA agent.” Steve tells them quietly, and everyone freezes, tension skyrocketing.

 

“ _What?_ ” Wanda’s whispered exclamation is a study in horror, and Steve frowns in response, thinking back to what she had told him. “She did it for vengeance, said we wiped them out, that she was the last one, but if she’s _free_ -”

 

“The fire could get re-ignited.” Bruce finishes for him, tense. “This isn’t good. I’m gonna let Sam and Bucky know, I managed to reach them earlier to tell them about your condition, but they should be on the lookout for this as well.”

 

Bruce steps quickly out of the room, phone already in hand and Steve leans back against his pillows.

 

“How long was I out?” he asks, already restless and wanting to move. The stabbing pains are some incentive not to, but not much of one if he’s gonna be honest.

 

“An hour at most.” Scott says, “Well, not including the time it took to get here and the treatment for your burns. Clint, Pepper, Peter and Harley are on their way.”

 

Steve snorts a bit, tries for a joke. “They’re trying to get here during New York rush hour? Good luck.”

 

Wanda laughs softly, and brushes Steve’s hair gently away from his face in a sisterly gesture.

“You scared us _so much_ Steve, we thought you were done for. If Tony hadn't been there-"

 

"Hey, none of that." Steve says firmly when she breaks off, eyes welling with tears. "He was there, and he got to me in time, and I'm _fine_. In one piece and everything."

 

"Barely." Scott says quietly. "We couldn't do anything to stop her-"

 

"It's not your fault." Steve responds, fierce. "These wounds will heal in a couple of days and I'll be fine, but we need to get to the bottom of this, make sure it doesn't happen again." He shakes his head, voice dropping. "She had nanites as well. I don't really believe in coincidences where this is concerned."

 

"Coincidences?" Scott asks, and Steve remembers that he hadn't been there for that particular battle. "You've fought this before."

 

As Wanda fills Scott in, Steve starts poking a bit at his bandages, which are wrapped primarily around neck and shoulders, to see where he got injured and how bad. He startles a bit when a hand reaches out and slaps his wrist.

 

"Don't do that." Wanda says sternly. "You'll only irritate it more, and Steve drops his hands with a sigh.

 

“I don’t really need to even be here, my neck and shoulders are burned, not my legs.”

 

“Stay put Rogers,” Bruce comes back into the room and gives him a stern look. “These are _chemical_ burns, not just the regular run-of-mill ‘ouch I touched a stove’ injury. You’re under observation for a couple hours to make sure that there’s no bad side effects. That means staying where you are.”

 

Steve opens his mouth to argue, because okay, yeah point, but he doesn’t need to stay _seated in bed_ , he can still walk around, but before he can respond, Pepper and Morgan step into the room, with Pepper stopping in the doorway looking horrified. Steve imagines he must be a sight, his upper body wrapped in white bandages. He waves weakly.

 

“Hello Pepper.”

 

“Here,” Wanda says before Pepper can respond, getting up. “Why don’t you take my seat, I imagine a few more people are gonna be arriving soon, and the room kinda has a carrying capacity.” Pepper gives her a grateful smile that Wanda returns, before she leans over and kisses Steve on the forehead.

 

“Don’t die.” is all she says before she walks out of the room with Scott, and Steve snorts, the bluntness and the phrasing reminding him achingly of Natasha.

 

"Oh _Steve._ " Pepper whispers, and walks forward to take the seat that was vacated by Wanda. Bruce resumes sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. “What did you get yourself into now?”

 

Steve chuckles, and waves hi at Morgan, who so far has been silently staring at Steve with wide eyes. “Oh just a little fight Pepper. You know how much I hate bullies.”

 

“Is Uncle Steve a mummy now?” Morgan suddenly asks out of nowhere, and Steve startles a bit before he starts laughing, Pepper and Bruce joining in as well. Morgan frowns at the lot of them, confused.

 

“That depends,” Steve says, reaching out a hand, and Morgan happily takes it and uses it to lever herself onto the bed, and then she promptly snuggles up to him, leaning up against the pillow and giving Steve a hug. “Are mummies cool or scary, what’s the verdict?”

 

Morgan scrunches up her face adorably as she thinks this question over. “Cool.” she eventually says with a decisive nod. Steve nods solemnly back. “Then you’re right Morgan, I’m an actual real life mummy.”

 

Morgan giggles when Steve makes a scrunched up scary face at her, and she scrunches up her face in return, which again, is absolutely adorable. Pepper watches them fondly.

 

“Wow, seems like a party in here,” Steve looks up from making funny faces at Morgan to see Clint poking his head in, his joking tone belied by the worry in his eyes. “And I wasn’t invited? I think I’m a little offended.”

 

“Uncle Clint!”

 

Morgan promptly launches herself off the bed in Clint’s direction and Steve laughs at the surprised look on the archer’s face as he suddenly finds himself with an armful of giggling seven year old girl.

 

“Whoa there munchkin, back’s not what it used to be you know.”

 

“Uncle Steve’s a mummy now.” Morgan tells him earnestly, and Clint snorts, gives Steve an amused look.

 

“Is he.”

 

“Nah, not really.” Morgan says, bouncing up and down in Clint’s arms as he walks over. “Mommy said that Steve got injured in battle, so that’s why he _looks_ like a mummy, but he isn’t _actually_.”

 

Steve smiles as Clint takes the other chair that Scott had vacated.

 

“Very insightful.”

 

After that Clint, Pepper and Bruce chat a bit, Morgan interjecting every once in a while, before Peter and Harley finally arrive, at around the same time, bursting into the room.

 

Steve looks up in surprise. At this point he’s had quite enough of being bed ridden, so he’s taken to pacing around in front of the window, much to the protest of Bruce, Clint and Pepper.

 

“I told you to be _careful_!” is the first thing Peter says, his voice almost a shriek, and then he rushes forward to give Steve a one armed hug, taking care to avoid his bandages. Steve stumbles back a couple steps, surprised, before he laughs softly and gives Peter a hug back.

 

“Hey, it’s ok kid, everything turned out for the best. I’m fine.”

 

There’s a couple of angry grumbles from where Peter’s face is still buried in Steve’s chest and Peter’s hand (the one not in a sling) comes up and smacks Steve on the arm.

 

“Pretty sure that’s a ‘no you’re not fine, idiot’” Harley is a little more reserved as he walks up to give Steve a hug as well, but then he promptly glares at him after he steps away.

 

“Don’t do that again.”

 

Steve throws his hands up exasperatedly, “It’s not like I _asked_ for it, the lady came after me.”

 

“Excuses. Dodge next time.”

 

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes, deciding it’s best not to mention that he purposely stepped into her trajectory to shield Wanda and Scott.

 

After that they all sit down, after much coaxing from Pepper for Steve to take it easy, and they talk for another hour or so, Wanda and Scott leaning in the doorway, before a SHIELD nurse comes in to notify them that Steve can finally leave.

 

He receives a bottle of medical ointment from the doctor with stern orders to apply it once a day until he’s healed over, to take the bandages off sometimes to let his skin air out and instructions on how to shower. Steve nods along and is finally ushered out of the hospital and loaded onto the quinjet for home, Clint, Peter and Harley apparently coming along.

 

Pepper needs to get back to SI as soon as possible, apparently having dashed out of the middle of an important meaning as soon as she got the news. Happy is currently holding down the fort.

 

“Have you made a decision about Morgan and Tony?” Steve asks Pepper quietly as he watches her place a dozing Morgan onto her booster seat in the backseat of her car.

 

“Not yet.” Pepper says sadly, brushing a strand of Morgan’s hair back behind her ear. “Not today, considering all that’s happened. But really soon.”

 

Steve nods and gives Pepper a brief but warm hug before she drives away, and he turns to board the quinjet, Wanda fussing over him the entire time.

 

The rest of the Avengers already had a debriefing while Steve had been in treatment, and considering Steve barely knows himself what exactly happened when he passed out, he figures it’s probably for the best.

 

The ride back to the compound is somber, and Steve wishes he could say something to break the tense and silent mood, but he’s kind of too exhausted to think of anything, so instead he sits there quietly and thinks over the battle.

 

He shouldn’t have let his opponent take him off guard like that. Two years ago, maybe he wouldn’t have. Would have been more alert, not so quick to relax. If he’s going to keep leading in Sam and Bucky’s absence, he needs to clean up his act, get back into the mindset.

 

The quinjet lands finally in the hangar, and the Avengers all file out to change. Steve follows the doctor’s orders, taking a shower with a wet washcloth for the time being. He barely even has to unzip his uniform to do it, the resilient cloth now pretty much in shreds from the acid, and where the doctors had cut portions of it away to get at his burns. He tosses it in the trash for now, vowing to get another one at some point, and decides he’ll apply the ointment later, before he goes to bed.

 

They order in takeout for dinner, and everyone piles on the couch to eat, putting on a movie that a lot of them ignore in favour of talking, or in Clint’s case, making commentary at the screen. It’s warm, quiet and cozy.

 

It’s only after Steve heads to his room when he realizes Tony has been unusually quiet all through dinner, only interjecting at certain points. Steve had been a little too out of it to really take notice, dozing a bit through the movie, but now he decides he should probably check in to make sure Tony’s okay, especially after... _that._

 

Steve still has no idea what happened exactly, but he can’t imagine that it was very pretty.

 

“Tony?”

 

There’s silence and Steve decides he might as well get started on his bandages, giving Tony a little time to answer if he wants to. He heads into the bathroom, and strips off his shirt, leaving the door open. He’s in the middle of unwrapping his shoulder when he gets a response.

 

“Hey Steve.”

 

Steve hums as he squints at his shoulder. The skin is raised and dark red, irritated, portions of the skin blackened where the burns were more severe, but Steve can already see where it’s healing from the serum.

 

“How are you holding up?” he asks absently, poking at the edge of one of his wounds.

 

“How am _I_ holding up?! Steve what the hell.”

 

He laughs at Tony’s response as he unscrews the ointment and starts applying it gently, wincing every once in a while when he presses too hard. He does this in silence for a couple of minutes, concentrating on getting all the areas, so he understandably startles slightly when Tony breaks the silence again.

 

“Does it...hurt a lot?” the question comes, quiet and subdued, Tony’s voice tentative. Steve hums again, thinking.

 

“Not too bad. Should be gone in another couple days or so.”

 

“...I’m sorry.”

 

Steve frowns at the ceiling, surprised. Of all the things Tony could have said, this was the last thing Steve had expected. “What do you mean, you’re ‘ _sorry’_ ? Tony, you saved my life. I should be _thanking_ you.”

 

“You left it up to me on when to join the fight, and I came too late. I stood by and watched through most of the battle, and you almost died because of it. I’m sorry.”

 

Steve blinks at himself in the mirror, momentarily shocked into silence.

 

“That’s...that-”

 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk to me right now, I’ll leave you alone-”

 

“Tony, _no,_ oh my God, that’s not _remotely_ what I was going to say. What kind of bullshit logic? I _asked_ you to stay out of it at the beginning because the fight didn’t seem to be that serious. The Hydra agent caught us by surprise, and the actual incident happened in a split second. There was nothing you could have done, and you _made the right call._ I’m alive right now because of you.”

 

There’s silence and Steve can tell Tony’s not convinced. He puts down the medicine tube and leans back against the counter.

 

“Can you tell me what exactly happened?” Steve asks, changing the subject for the time being. “I was unconscious for most of the time I was falling.”

 

More silence, the hesitant kind and then Tony answers.

 

“Well. Um. After the last time we came up against the nanites...I decided to upgrade the EMP a bit in the workshop, just in case. I had a lot of time on my hands and...well. Anyways.”

 

Tony clears his throat awkwardly, even though he doesn’t need it. “Bruce helped me out with that, since. Hologram. The EMP worked well the first time I used it of course, but the end result was dangerous, because of how widespread the pulse was, so we fixed it to be more adjustable, everywhere from a blast radius of two blocks to one that’s five metres, and inputted it into most of the armours.”

 

Steve nods for Tony to continue when he hesitates.

 

“The only thing that kept the nanites on you as they self-destructed was the instructions the Hydra agent gave, so after I shut them down with the EMP, they peeled off pretty quickly as you fell. The only bad side-effect is that they probably dissolved even quicker after that, since there’s already a built in self-destruct. I stayed out of range of the pulse, and then...I caught you and flew you to SHIELD.”

 

Steve shakes his head in disbelief when Tony finishes talking.

 

“You. I actually have no words.”

 

“Steve-”

 

“No shush. You’re going to listen because I can’t believe you’re trying to _apologize_ to me after all that. You’re _amazing_ Tony. And kind of infuriating.”

 

“W-what?”

 

“You did _all of that_ ,” Steve begins, picking up steam. “-improved on the EMP just in case of another future incident, took into account all the people a widespread pulse could put in danger, installed it into the armours, was ready to fight with us on a _moments notice_ , flew up _just in time_ to save me, you give _so much_ without our knowledge, and you’re trying to _apologize_?” Steve scoffs a bit, disbelieving. “If you were actually solid, I’d try to knock some sense into you.”

 

Tony suddenly flickers into existence beside Steve, glaring at him.

 

“If I had come in sooner to help you all, you wouldn’t have _needed_ to be rescued.” he snarls.

 

“If you had come in sooner to help us, it might not have changed a thing, or it might’ve changed everything.” Steve glares back, not yielding an inch. “You _don’t know_ Tony, and I don’t know either, what would’ve happened, but there’s no use in dwelling on that when everything turned out alright. You saved me, so here is me saying thank you _. Thank you for saving my life_.”

 

Steve raises his eyebrows at Tony, daring him to argue, trying to will him into hearing what he’s saying, and Tony finally looks away, staring down at the bathroom counter.

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

Steve sighs, figuring that’s the best he can ask for from the AI, and starts unwrapping the rest of his bandages, Tony watching the entire time.  

 

There’s a shocked gasp as the final loop comes away, and Steve looks over to see Tony staring at him in horror.

 

“Steve, _your neck._ ” Tony’s voice is hoarse and choked, eyes wide and appalled, and his hands come up, holographic fingers brushing across his collarbone, the hollow of his throat. Steve shivers, feeling the phantom touch on sensitive skin.

 

“What about it?” He whispers, slightly confused, and it’s like he can _feel_ Tony’s gaze on him, because that’s just how intense it is, the way the AI is looking at him, eyes glimmering, and there can’t be tears, but it looks a hell of a lot like there is.

 

Steve glances over at himself in the mirror, and even he blanches a bit.

 

Somehow, it’s even worse than the injuries on his shoulder. There are dark marks ringing his throat, mottled burns, in a pattern, almost like fingers, but too alien, too irregular to be. The edges of the burns are purple and discoloured, like bruising. It’s not a pretty sight.

 

“ _God,_ I wish I could-” Tony whispers hoarsely, drawing Steve’s attention away from his reflection, and Tony’s hand brushes Steve’s shoulder almost helplessly, fingers pixelating again. He looks _awful,_ expression pained. “-wish I could _do_ something _-_ ”

 

“You’ve done more than enough Tony.” Steve smiles softly at him. “This will heal, although I probably won’t be winning any beauty pageants any time soon.” Steve resumes applying the ointment lightly.

 

“ _Not_ the time to joke Steve.” Tony growls at him, and Steve laughs at his disgruntled expression, capping the medicine once he’s done.

 

“ _Perfect_ time to joke, Shellhead.” he responds, and hides his smile at Tony’s spluttering.

 

“Seriously? _Shellhead?_ I’ve been meaning to talk about that with you, don’t think you can escape this just because you clicked away on comms you jackass, what kind of _stupid_ nickname-”

 

Steve’s mouth twitches with amusement as he listens to Tony’s ranting. He re-applies the bandages slowly, the process taking a bit of fumbling, which again makes that horrible pinched look appear back on Tony’s face. Steve calls him Tin Can this time to distract him, and laughs as Tony flails his arms in concentrated offense.

 

Tony stays with him and they chat all through his bedtime routine before finally following Steve into the bedroom, halting in the middle of the room when Steve sits down on the edge of his bed.

 

“Goodnight.” Tony says quietly. “Sweet dreams.”

 

The room is dark, and in the dim light, the outline of Tony’s hologram glows, a beautiful arc reactor blue. Steve can’t help but think he looks positively angelic, otherworldly like this, like he’s lit from within.

 

“Goodnight Tony. Thank you.”

 

Tony flickers out with a small smile, and Steve lies down, falling asleep almost immediately despite his injuries, exhausted to the core.

 

Steve doesn’t recall any of it in the morning, but that night he dreams inexplicably of flight, of metal, dyed a vivid red and gold, everything blanketed by an overwhelming feeling of safety. Of _home._

 

* * *

 

"Steeeeeve."

 

Steve looks up from where he's currently working on a sketch from the balcony of the compound. Tony is standing beside him in the warm morning sunlight, translucent now because of how strong the sun's rays are.

 

It’s been about five days after the little incident, and as predicted, Steve’s burns have healed up nicely, leaving behind pink and unblemished skin. The last few days have been rather uneventful, Steve taken off from his usual duties in running training and instead being fussed over by everyone. Now he knows how Peter felt, going a little bit stir crazy. The only really exciting thing that had happened was that Thor had finally called them back, able to now get reception from wherever in the universe he’s calling from.

 

They updated him on the Tony situation and Thor in turn promises solemnly to head to Earth as soon as he possibly can, eager to see Tony himself. He’ll probably arrive in a couple of weeks. All the Avengers are excited, it’s been a long time since Thor has been back.

 

In other news, Bucky and Sam have predicted that they’ll return from their mission in another week or so, currently chasing a lead, and so Steve, finally back to full duties after almost being smothered to death by everyone he knows, is drawing on the balcony, having just finished working out a bit in the gym.

 

"Good morning Tony," Steve says, putting his pencil to paper again, and shading in the trunk of a far off tree. "What's up?"

 

"What, something has to be 'up' for me to say hi?" Tony says, sounding offended. Steve laughs.

 

"Noooo," Steve smiles, pencil scratching at his paper, "it doesn’t, but it _has_ been four days, and any previous conversation you've had with me in those four days haven't involved your holographic self, so I'm assuming this visit in particular is a bit more special??" Steve smiles innocently up at Tony, blinking unassumingly and Tony scoffs.

 

"Y'know," he says, sounding amused. "I have really no memories of you beyond your identity and a cursory knowledge based on what you’ve told me, but I keep wondering if you've always been such a little shit.” He flails his arms a bit, gesturing at Steve who watches him amusedly. “Because if you have, it feels like this should've been mentioned."

 

Tony suddenly points at Steve when he raises an eyebrow at him. "NO, no no no, you are not allowed to give me that _look_ , the one that says 'sure Tony, I have no idea what you're talking about, but whatever you say' it is all dirty lies you dirty _liar-"_

 

"That's quite a lot of words for one expression to communicate." Steve interrupts mildly, but Tony half talks over him, on a roll.

 

"-Y'know it could even just be a footnote: hey heads up, the former Captain America is a shit stirrer, pass it on. Basic courtesy okay, because this is a _travesty_ , they should've stamped this fact on your forehead because this is _important information_ , life-changing even. I feel betrayed, I've been lead on by your friendly demeanor and wholesome good looks, this is false advertisement. Stop _laughing_ you waste of a human, this is a serious matter!"

 

Tony’s rant ends on an offended shriek and at this point Steve is failing horribly at keeping his hysteria in.

 

"Wow Tony," he says, wheezing. "Tell me how you _really_ feel why don't you." and Tony hmphs at him, smile twitching at his mouth.

 

“So,” Steve says eventually when Tony makes it clear he’s not going to continue. “Have you come here just to yell at me?” He looks at the AI with wide blue eyes, trying his best to pout a bit without bursting into laughter. It’s a struggle. “That’s mean Tony, I think my feelings are hurt.”

 

Tony’s mouth drops open and the look of utter betrayal almost makes Steve start laughing again. “Stop that. No. That face is not allowed, stop, put that expression away, I’m banning that from the compound.” Steve looks down at his pencil sadly. “Oh my God STOP it, I swear to God you’re _evil_ sometimes-” Steve finally stops the act with a snort and just leans forward on his knees and laughs, face buried in the edge of his sketchbook. It smells like old paper and he’s probably getting graphite smudges on his face, but he wouldn’t change this moment for the world.

 

“Yeah yeah, yuck it up Steve,” Tony says, “I control the compound, revenge will be mine. You’ve messed with the wrong AI etc. etc. insert evil laughter here.”

 

Steve shakes his head, sitting back up. “ _Very_ inspiring performance.”

 

“Thank you, I try.” Steve huffs and goes back to sketching the compound skyline, and Tony settles(or rather, the hologram appears to settle) beside him on the balcony, leaning on the railing.

 

“Ok, so I actually do need your help.” Tony finally says, after about five minutes of comfortable silence. Steve hums in response without looking up. “Really. You don’t say. I’m shocked.”

 

“I don’t like you.” Steve hums again, amused, and there’s silence from Tony’s end, but he knows without looking up that the AI is rolling his eyes at him.

 

“I was taking another look through some of human Tony’s old schematics,” Tony began slowly, fidgeting a bit, and Steve is a little worried because Tony looks nervous. “Y’know, just doing some housekeeping, cleaning up some things, getting familiar with the systems, and I came across a shit-ton of inventions, there are just so _many_ , and I started fiddling with one of human Tony’s half finished plans for the Iron Man armour, because earlier I just used one of the old models y’know, didn’t do much to change it, well other than the EMP of course, and I fiddled with some things, managed to make the thing like 10% more efficient with a few adjustments, and I know Rhodey still uses the War Machine armour and I know I’m probably shouldn’t disturb Tony’s old things because it’s not mine but if I could work on one of them to test it out I could make it so much safer-”

 

“Tony.” Steve looks at him worriedly, stopping him gently in the middle of his nervous rambling, because it sounds like Tony’s...asking for permission? And that’s just...no. “That’s entirely fine. If anyone should work with the armours, it would be you, and you _definitely_ don’t need my approval.”

 

Tony looks at him, surprised, and Steve feels horrible that the AI keeps having these little moments of insecurity, because he knows that it’s his fault. Steve realizes he wasn’t subtle at all about the fact that he missed human Tony desperately, understatement of the century, but that doesn’t change how he feels about the AI now. Tony is family, doesn’t matter what form.

 

“Seriously?” Tony asks, uncertain and Steve again, feels awful.

 

“Of course,” he says quietly. “I admit...that was one of my main issues a few weeks ago,” he concedes quietly. Tony flinches a bit, and damn it, _no_ that’s not what Steve’s trying to do here.

 

“Weeks! Weeks ago! Not now,” he stresses this fact, smiling at Tony. “Because, it probably took me way too long to accept the fact that he’s gone. It took me like, almost a year? To open Tony’s lab for fuck’s sake.” He shakes his head. “But, like Pepper told me, Tony Stark wouldn’t have _wanted_ his life’s work to become a tomb or a memorial, gilded and left to gather dust. If you can do good, help improve on it, then how could I do anything but thank you for it? It already paid off once. Saved my life.” Steve grins cheekily at Tony, who gradually smiles back, the uncertain expression fading. “There’s literally _no one_ better to do that than you. Who else but Tony to continue Tony Stark’s inventions?” and Steve feels very accomplished when it draws out a laugh.

 

“Well then…” He says, trailing off.

 

Steve glares at Tony. “Stop trying to ask me for permission. Not my place. Turn the Iron Man armours into a beer float if you want to.” and Tony laughs again, surprised.

 

“Would be a horrible beer float.” but Steve shrugs. “Do it if that’s what makes you happy.”

 

“...Thanks Steve.” Steve waves him off impatiently, not wanting to be thanked for something that shouldn’t even be in question in the first place.

 

“Great!” Tony says, straightening up happily. “There’s delicate electrical work that I can’t do on my own. I’m gonna need your hands.” Steve looks at him, a bit startled.

 

“Wouldn’t Bucky be a better choice for that?” he says mildly. “His hand actually detaches. I’m kind of stuck to mine.” he wiggles his graphite covered fingers cheekily at Tony, who rolls his eyes.

 

“You’re such a little shit.”

 

“You love it.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes in response. “That I do.” he mumbles to himself, but Steve’s serum enhanced ears catches it easily. He tries not to blush but he probably fails, suddenly flooded with warmth and happiness. Steve looks hurriedly back down at his drawing to hide the fact that he had heard, needlessly adding more layers to one of the shadows.

 

“Okay. Hands. Hop to it Rogers, daylight is wasting.”

 

Steve laughs as Tony flickers out of existence, and he gets up, snapping his sketchbook closed before heading down to the workshop. Tony’s already there, flipping manically through some blueprints, one of the Iron Man armours helping him move around tools and machines.

 

Tony quickly gives Steve a rundown of the safety equipment and hazards in the lab, points him to some safety goggles and welding gloves, and then sets Steve to work, muttering to himself and directing Steve on which wire to snip, or which portions to weld together. It’s not too hard, since Steve has done some work on vehicles before during the years he’s been on the run, and this is pretty similar to that, although a lot more technical.

 

Steve allows himself to be instructed, watching Tony amusedly all the while, listening to him monologue, because it’s undeniable that he’s in his element here, surrounded by his own creations and genius, thoroughly entrenched in his math equations. It’s awe-inspiring to watch him work, flitting around the lab almost like a magician, although Steve makes a note never to compare what Tony’s doing to magic, because boy will he rant, but that’s exactly what it looks like to Steve. Magic.

 

Even more amusingly, Tony the AI seems to be able to work even faster than human Tony, even more efficient, because he can run simultaneous calculations all while he’s snarking at Steve over his welding technique.

 

“What is this posture Steve, this is horrible, you’ve done a horrible thing.” Tony scowls at Steve who shrugs.

 

“Gets the job done doesn’t it.” Steve says, shutting off the acetylene blow torch. “Not all of us can be engineers with a bajillion PhDs.” He pushes the welding mask up and gives Tony a cheeky smile.

 

“Just get back to work Rogers.” Tony scowls, and Steve laughs before complying.

 

It’s during a moment of concentrated silence when a curious thing happens.

 

“I’m surprised how good you are at this,” Tony comments idly as he watches Steve put together a delicate piece of wiring, hands hovering as if he wants to help but can’t. “Even Bruce had trouble at times- wait careful there, _careful_ , that part’s kind of important-”

 

Steve snorts. “Relax. I’m an artist Tony. I have steady hands.”

 

And just like that, Tony freezes in place, still as a statue.

 

Steve pauses after a second, not having realized at first, and looks up at him, worried. He lets go of the wiring he’s doing and puts down the pliers.

 

“Tony? Are you okay?”

 

“What did you just say?” Tony’s voice is hoarse and he blinks rapidly, staring at nothing.

 

“I…have steady hands?” It shouldn’t be possible for a hologram to look this pale, but somehow Tony manages it.

 

“Yinsen.” He whispers, and Steve frowns, utterly confused, the word not meaning anything to him. Tony’s muttering to himself now, and Steve can barely understand it, snatches of words like “remember” and “cave”. The rest is incoherent and doesn’t make sense.

 

“What?”

 

“I-it’s nothing, just. I just remembered-there’s something important I have to do, I-ten minutes, give me ten minutes, I’ll be right back, I just-”

 

Tony flickers out, looking thoroughly shaken, and Steve sits there, utterly perplexed. He wonders if it’s something he said, something that offended Tony, but when he runs over their previous conversation from start to finish in his head, he can’t find anything out of the ordinary.  

 

Tony comes back in twenty minutes instead of ten, and he jokes around, trying return to how he had been before, but Steve can see the tightness around his eyes, the strain in his voice at times. Something’s wrong, but Steve can’t figure out what.

 

He promises himself that he’s going to ask later, since Tony’s wearing that familiar pinched expression that says he would not respond well to inquiries at the moment, and goes back to helping around, tries to put the incident out of his mind for now.

 

When he leaves the lab an hour later, he catches a glimpse of Tony before Steve steps out of the room, expression pinched and worried, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, looking all the world like he’s just had his heart ripped out.

 

Before Steve can do anything, like go back in and demand some answers, ask Tony if he’s okay, Tony meets his eyes, and shakes his head, expression pleading. The look is clear. Not now.

 

The lab doors shut behind him with a soft whir, locking.

 

Steve sighs, and decides to give him some time.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in paradise? 
> 
> Lol thank you all for being patient as I struggle to turn out chapters in a timely manner XD. You've all been wonderful so far. I put in a couple references to some of the comic-verses in here, namely "Shellhead", and "Commander Rogers". I'm especially a sucker for the Shellhead and Winghead nicknames, so hey, why not add it in? ;)
> 
> The hydra agent is actually an OC, although I will admit that I took some inspiration from Madame Hydra from the comic-verse. It's not exactly her, but also not really far off either.
> 
> As always, comments give me life, and thank you for reading :))))


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I apologize for the long wait in between the last chapter and this one, I got really sick at one point, and then problems of the emotional kind and then things were just bleh for a while. It got better though and now I'm back and writing again :)
> 
> Honestly, I spent most of the last week wrestling in a fight to the death with the plot of this story, trying to wrestle it into submission. Not entirely sure I succeeded, but here's hoping things make sense in the end XDD
> 
> Enjoy! :)

After he leaves, Steve walks sedately down the halls of the compound towards the living areas, mind a whir of confusion and worry as he thinks over Tony's reaction in the workshop.

 

Usually Steve wouldn't mind suddenly getting booted from the lab; it's not exactly unusual for Tony to get distracted by some new idea or situation and suddenly leave, flickering out and returning later with a sheepish expression when he remembers. It's also not unusual for him to kick people out of his work space either. After all, Tony isn't exactly shy about letting people know when he needs to be alone to do his inventing in peace. It's one of the things Steve can't help but admire about Tony, when his mind is going too fast for people to keep up, when Tony hears that siren call of a new revolutionary idea and shuts down in order to concentrate all his efforts on it.

 

No, it's not that.

 

This time was...different. This time it wasn't any idea or interest that had caused Tony to leave, to shut everything out. Something had really shaken him, and Steve thinks back to the way Tony had looked; like he had the air punched out of him, heartbroken and mourning and desperate.

 

What could have _possibly_ happened to make Tony look like that?

 

Maybe...Steve had said something. Maybe he did something and didn’t realize. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but Steve’s learned from personal experience that you can’t always predict someone’s triggers. It's not always the big things that break us.

 

Steve had seen first hand - battered veterans during the war, flinching at noises that echo of gunshots, the way an errant tool around the house could make Pepper break down crying even months after the final battle. How sometimes all it took was a vague reminder - even now - a certain shade of red that reminds him abruptly of Natasha's fiery hair, the battered flip phone that Steve keeps tucked away in a box so he won't have to look at it. It doesn't take much to be the straw that breaks a back.

 

And by God Steve hopes it wasn't something he said that had made Tony look like that, because he's seen enough of that expression to last a lifetime, caused enough hurt, and to see Tony look like that again, an echo of Siberia, fractured and cracked like porcelain...

 

Steve startles out of his thoughts when he suddenly hears a distressed creaking sound and abruptly realizes he's made his way to the kitchen and had begun strangling the refrigerator door handle.

 

He let's go of it sheepishly, even though the kitchen is currently empty and sighs, guiltily noting the slight indent of fingers imprinted in the metal. After a moment of contemplation, he decides to just get a glass of water instead.

 

Steve tries his best to look at it all analytically as he - carefully this time - grabs a glass and fills it, and leans against the counter. Consider all the facts:

 

  1. He had re-run every facet of their conversation: nothing had seemed off until that last line, that Tony had asked him to repeat. And Steve hadn't said anything particularly unusual there either.
  2. If that were true, if it was something Steve had said, Tony usually tells him immediately. Granted Steve knows that this isn't infallible, Tony might suddenly not want to talk about it, might want to shut him out if what he said was bad enough, but again...point 1. Steve can't think of anything in that conversation that would have upset Tony to that extent. Steve likes to believe he's not oblivious enough to not even notice that big of a trigger.
  3. Yinsen. That word means nothing to him. It had been entirely out of context of the conversation, and it had seemed to be the thing that Tony had fixated most on.



 

Steve wonders if it could’ve been in another language, if Tony had just been muttering nonsense and Steve misunderstood, if he had misheard? But he can’t think of any word that’s similar enough that he could have mistaken it for. Possibly a noun. The name of a place? A person?  

 

Steve sighs.

 

And...there’s of course always the possibility that it wasn't Steve at all, that it was a glitch, a system error, and he shifts uncomfortably as he thinks about it. The very idea of something going wrong with Tony fills him with outright...fear. Because none of them really know how to help him, not even Bruce because he’s not technically an engineer, genius as he is, and yeah Shuri, but what if she doesn’t arrive in time or isn’t available, just…

 

Steve shakes himself out of it before he can spiral.

 

No.

 

Steve turns agitatedly to wash out his glass and place it in the dishwasher.

 

No. It’s a plausible theory and a possibility of course, but there's no point in working himself into a panic when he doesn't know all the facts and angles. He'll...he needs to talk to Tony. That part is unavoidable, and goes beyond just worry on Steve's part for Tony's well being (although there is _plenty_ of that as well). As a temporary team leader, he needs to make sure that Tony is fit enough for it if they do get called to assemble again.   

 

But not now. Tony had asked him for time alone, and Steve will respect that.

 

Decision made, Steve firmly puts the issue out of his mind for now, and heads towards his room, intending to catch up some mission and tactical reports that he’s behind on. He had tried working on them in the five days it took to heal up, but had always been conveniently called away by one of the other Avengers. When Clint had come to visit, he had found a couple of his files missing, and discovered them stuffed in a vent. 

 

Steve huffs to himself at the memory and allows a small smile. He’s missed this. In the year after the ensuing battle, during that time of mourning, he’s missed this. Missed that easy camaraderie of the early days in the tower, missed Clint crawling through the vents, missed Natasha unnerving everyone by sharpening her knives in plain view, missed Thor yelling about pop tarts, missed dragging Tony out of the lab and Bruce brewing his calming tea for everyone, missed how none of them would hesitate - none of them would be too _scared_ of overstepping - to hide very important files in unsuspecting places just to get one of the team to rest. 

 

After the Ultron incident, nothing had ever been the same, and Steve had found himself mourning 2012 as if it was a person, after that glimpse of how they had been when he had returned the stones, and the knowledge that now there was no chance of it ever coming back. 

 

But now, parts of it had returned, snuck up on him these past two years. It was tinged with something bittersweet, and wouldn’t ever be without, but it was returning. 

 

Steve starts on the reports in good spirits, a tiny private smile curling his lips as he flips through the paperwork and realizes that a good portion of the reports have already been finished interchangeably in Bruce and Clint’s handwriting. The papers are still crumpled from the rough handling, and Steve smooths it out fondly as he adds in little details of the fight that his teammates had missed, and then finds the report where the writing cuts off and continues from there. That particular one is his personal report to Shield. All the Avengers had written and submitted one, since they’re working in cooperation with the fledgling organization, and it’s better for them as a whole if the tactical information is shared. Fury probably wouldn’t be too impressed at how distressed the paper is, but Steve doesn’t particularly care. 

 

He eventually loses himself in the work, the filling of forms and reports comfortingly tedious, most minor calls to assemble barely worth noting, the soft scritch of pen on paper soothing. 

 

He pauses though when he gets to the report for the battle five days ago. Even now it unnerves him, the memory of that former Hydra agent. Because if there’s one of them still out there, how many more still remain, undiscovered?

 

He goes over every aspect of the fight in detail, over and over, writes down everything that happened to the last, dredges up what little he remembers of the end. It’s not remotely pleasant, remembering the feeling of not being able to get enough air, her vicious smirk, knowing that he’s probably going to die, but he pushes past that because this is important. He takes breaks when it gets a bit too much, though he tries his best to keep going. Every last detail could be crucial. 

 

Tony had started creating and running algorithms with Bruce the day after the call to assemble in an attempt to track her down, but had so far not been able to find much on her movements. They don’t have much to go on after all, just a physical description, a vague outline of her abilities, and the knowledge that she used to work for HYDRA. 

 

“There’s only so much I can do with so little information,” Tony had muttered, looking frustrated. “The parameters are too wide. We’ll have to wait for Barnes and Wilson.” 

 

Steve writes down every last detail he can think of; average height and build, brown hair, blue eyes, flight, strength…

 

He loses track of time as he makes his way through the last of the reports, and separates them into piles, some to be delivered to SHIELD, some as an Avengers record. He’s just in the process of finishing up when his phone rings, and Steve jumps, startled as the sharp sound cuts through the silence. 

 

He answers hastily when he sees the caller ID.

 

“Pepper?” 

 

“Good afternoon Steve, is this a bad time?” 

 

“Oh no, not at all,” Steve shuffles the neat piles of paperwork to the side and caps his pen. “Just finishing up some reports.”

 

“Hmm. Last I heard you were supposed to be taking it easy.” 

 

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s been five days Pepper, I haven’t needed to “take it easy” since three days ago. And believe me I have. Clint hid my paperwork deep in the vents, I didn’t really have a choice.”

 

Pepper laughs. “Sounds hilarious.” 

 

“Oh believe me, it very much wasn’t.” Steve says, the mirth in his voice probably belying his words.

 

“Uh huh,” Pepper says, sounding unconvinced. Steve spins around a bit in his swivel chair just to have something to do.

 

“So, how have you been?” 

 

“Hmm. You mean since you saw me five days ago?” 

 

“You know,” Steve fidgets with his pen as he grins, tossing it in the air.  “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this sass, but it’s not appreciated.” 

 

“Your complaints have been noted and ignored.” 

 

Steve laughs and slips into easy conversation with Pepper, about the happenings at SI, about the Avengers, everything. They’ve haven’t had a lot of time to just talk after all, Pepper’s busy schedule making it difficult to fit in even just a phone call at times. It had been simpler when Steve lived with her and Morgan, but now all they can really do is have a brief talk whenever they’re able.

 

“-oh which reminds me.” Pepper says, slipping from her story of Happy’s shenanigans as head of security at SI, “I’ve finally gotten a few days off-” Steve gasps dramatically, cutting Pepper off, who snorts.

 

“She finally takes a _break_ , after _two years,_ oh lord the _humanity_ , what has the world come to-” 

 

“Oh shush you horrible person.” Steve obviously can’t see her, but he has a feeling she just stuck her tongue out at the phone. 

 

“What was that you said about ‘since I saw you five days ago’?” 

 

“Anyways, as I was _saying_ ,” Pepper says, pointedly ignoring him, and Steve chuckles. “I finally managed to get a few days off work, and I was wondering if it was a good time to bring Morgan over to...visit with Tony.”

 

Steve blinks, surprised. “And you’re checking in with me? You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

 

“I know,” Pepper says in a long suffering but fond tone. “You tell me every two seconds, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t remember.” Steve laughs as Pepper huffs. “I just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t in the middle of a mission or something.” 

 

Steve hums. “Sam and Bucky aren’t here right now, but other than that, no mission. Although...have you checked in with Tony to see if he’s okay with it?” Steve hedges, since the AI hadn’t exactly been in a talkative mood earlier, to put it lightly.  

 

“Well, I tried to contact him first,” Pepper sounds a bit frustrated. “But he’s kind of...not responding at the moment.” 

 

Steve hums, his previous worry over Tony’s state rushing back. It probably shows quite a bit in his voice, further confirmed when Pepper continues talking. 

 

“I figured when I called him that he was just preoccupied. It happened all the time with human Tony, he’d get distracted down in his workshop-” Pepper’s voice becomes tinged with fondness as she says this, “-but. Steve is everything okay?” 

 

Steve pauses a bit, not really sure how to answer. 

 

Is everything okay? ...no admittedly. Probably not. Is it his place to tell her what had happened? He’s not entirely sure. There really isn’t a standard protocol to; the compound’s AI freaked out suddenly, shut me out of his workshop and I haven’t seen hide or hair of him in hours, and now I’m worried, but not entirely sure how worried I should be because I still have no idea what the hell happened. 

 

“Um.” Steve says. “So...you know that thing human Tony used to do when he was deeply upset over something, and would avoid all human contact and lock himself in his lab for hours on end, and sometimes it was better to go find him as soon as possible and talk it out with him, but other times it was better to just let him be and think through it himself, and I was never really that good at noticing which one of these moods it was, so at the beginning of our friendship I would fuck up quite a lot?” Steve asks in a rush. 

 

Pepper sighs a bit, a mixture of fond and exasperated. 

 

“You two are something else altogether. How you guys managed to lead a highly elite team of superpowered responders is beyond me sometimes.”

 

“Luck?” Steve tries weakly after a brief pause. Pepper laughs. 

 

“Was this a situation caused by you two, or did something else happen?” 

 

Steve grimaces. “I’m not entirely sure...we were talking normally and then suddenly Tony just froze and started babbling, and I re-ran the entire conversation in my head but I can’t pick out anything I said that would be particularly upsetting? But there’s a possibility I inadvertently did without realizing-” Steve breaks off with a sigh. “I never say the right things.”

 

Pepper sounds contemplative when she answers. “Maybe you did. This could be unrelated.”

 

Steve hums, not really convinced. 

 

“I figured giving him some space would be the best way to go about this,” Steve says quietly. “He wanted to be alone, so it’s been a couple hours.”

 

Pepper makes a sound of agreement. “Good call.”

 

“Pepper, I’m kinda.” Steve sighs, not sure how to word it.

 

“Steve?” 

 

“I’m...worried. That something’s wrong. In the AI systems error kind of way.” 

 

“Like, something wrong with the program?” Pepper says, understanding what Steve means even though he’s probably not being very eloquent at the moment. Steve pauses when he hears her reiteration, and squirms a bit uncomfortably. It sounds bad when it’s worded like that, as if Tony’s emotions could be attributed to a malfunction, but Tony had just looked so _hurt_ as he left and Steve can’t connect any of their conversation to it with the little information he has, so maybe it was a physical thing, and Steve doesn’t want to even consider that, but there’s still that one paranoid portion of him that’s saying over and over, entertain every theory because ‘what if’...

 

“I’m just scared of something going really wrong. With Tony. Usually I wouldn’t even consider it but...this time it was just so abrupt and out of nowhere that I wondered if it could have been a..a glitch? I’m scared he’s not okay.” He pauses, contemplative. “Pepper...does the word ‘Yinsen’ mean anything to you?” 

 

There’s a sharp gasp, and Steve immediately sits up from his slouch. “Pepper?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything more.

 

“Why do you ask?” Pepper’s voice is shaky, and Steve becomes more worried. 

 

“It was what Tony had said after he started babbling and...Pepper what is it? What does it mean? Is everything ok? Is it something bad?” 

 

“No, no Steve, don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous or bad. Yinsen...just...talk to him Steve. When you get the chance, talk to Tony.” 

 

“So...you know what it means?” 

 

“Yes, I do. But it isn’t my place to say. It’s Tony’s story to tell. I’m just surprised he knows…” Steve can almost hear Pepper’s frown of concentration through the phone. “I...wouldn’t put too much merit on the malfunction theory but...maybe keep a close eye? Probably better not to dismiss it entirely. We wouldn’t want Tony getting sick or injured on us. Um. If AI’s can do that. I’m not entirely sure. Computer viruses? Either way, probably better to make sure Tony’s okay.” 

 

“Alright.” Steve says, thoroughly confused. “I’ll...keep that in mind.” 

 

“I’ll call him again, try and talk to him, and you should too when he’s ready.” Pepper says, “Honestly, it sounds like he just needs a friend right now.” 

 

“I can do that,” Steve frowns, his worry not remotely curbed.

 

“I know you can,” Pepper laughs, “You sound like you’re getting prepared for a mission Steve, put the Captain America voice away.” 

 

Steve huffs in response, letting a small grin replace his frown. “There is no Captain America voice. Captain America, aka one Sam Wilson is working undercover right now.”

 

“There is too a Captain America voice, and you still have it even though you’re retired. It should be put away because it does not belong in conversations between friends.” 

 

Steve lets out a noise not unlike a hmph, and Pepper laughs. 

 

“Alright, well, how about you let me know when Tony is ready for the meeting Morgan thing?” Pepper continues. “I was waiting for when Rhodey had leave to take my days off so we could all visit together but Tony’s well-being of course comes first.”

 

“Sounds good.” Steve says, “I’ll mention it to Tony when I get the chance so he can decide when he’s okay with the visit.” 

 

“Great, it’s settled then. I’ll let Rhodey know about the change in plans. No promises he won’t go over anyways to check up on Tony.” 

 

Steve laughs. “I’d expect nothing less.” 

 

They go back to more lighthearted topics after that, which manages to distract Steve until Harley yells up the stairs at him to “get his ass downstairs and eat some food”. Steve says a hasty goodbye to the sound of Pepper laughing at him over the phone and hangs up to head downstairs before Harley starts yelling again. 

 

“Last I checked, you don’t live here.” is the first thing Steve says to Harley when he enters the kitchen. Harley chucks a takeout container at Steve’s head in response, and they all sit down in the living room to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine Nine as they eat. 

 

“Is there any particular reason we’re starting right from the beginning again?” Wanda asks after the first ten minutes of the episode. 

 

“Shhh, stop being treasonous,” Peter kicks at her. “The show is good enough that it warrants a second watch.” 

 

“We haven’t even finished the _first_ watch-” 

 

“Shhhhhhhhh,” Peter says loudly, placing a hand over Wanda’s mouth. “My husband Jake Peralta is talking, everyone be quiet.”

 

Steve watches them bicker back and forth fondly, Scott and Bruce cutting in here and there with a comment at different times. Steve feels Tony’s absence keenly, the silence in between and lack of sharp humour and his laugh, but he tries to put that out of his mind as they get further and further into the episodes.

 

It’s cozy, and comfortable, and as evening turns into night, none of them really bother to leave afterwards, dozing off one by one on the couches. 

 

* * *

 

To Steve’s complete and utter surprise, Tony is the one who comes to find him the next morning. 

 

Steve wakes up at around five am to see all the official Avengers, plus Harley(the unofficial Avenger), sprawled out around the living room, all fast asleep. Bruce seems to have somehow migrated to the floor sometime in the middle of the night, curled around a throw blanket. Peter is drooling on Harley’s shoulder. Scott is passed out on the coffee table. Wanda is pretty much the only one sleeping somewhat normally, curled up tightly on an armchair. 

 

There are empty takeout containers strewn all around the floor.

 

Steve takes one look at the mess the living room has become and feels a surge of fondness. After a moment of contemplation, he heads to the nearest linen cupboard and grabs about a million blankets, laying it gently over each Avenger before he allows himself a stretch, massaging the crick in his neck he got from sleeping curled up on a couch that was a little too short for him. 

 

It’s still dark outside; Steve can see the beginning vestiges of light against the horizon through the living room windows. 

 

He lets himself zone out for a bit as he stares out the window, still shaking off the remnants of sleep, before he decides to get a headstart on his morning routine. Steve heads back to his room to change for a run. 

 

His plans become slightly derailed however when he opens the door to see Tony sitting casually on Steve’s bed. 

 

He pauses in the doorway.

 

Tony looks. Well. There's no other way to say it. Tony looks like _shit._

 

Of course, physically, he looks the same as always. No bags under the eyes, no manifestation of his weariness in the holographic image. 

 

At the same time though, Steve can almost feel the exhaustion weighing down Tony's frame, and that vaguely haunted look in his eyes; like he's been through a horrible ordeal. He just looks...hurt. There’s no other way to describe it. 

 

Immediately worried, Steve hesitates, not sure if he should ask if Tony's okay or give him space to start talking when he wants to.

 

He had looked up when Steve opened the door though, so he settles with giving Tony a small smile for now. 

 

“‘morning.” 

 

Tony stares at him, and then his expression abruptly turns blank, almost like it shuts down, hiding away all the vulnerability Steve had gotten a glimpse of behind a neutral mask. Steve blinks at him, briefly thrown.

 

“I probably owe you an explanation.” Tony mutters blankly.

 

Steve shrugs cautiously, still thrown and decides not to say anything. 

 

Tony looks down at his hands. “I don’t think I’m ready to give one.” he says flatly. 

 

Not really sure how to respond, Steve decides the best course of action is probably to at least enter the room first. He closes the door behind him, and sits down quietly beside Tony, who’s as rigid as a board and staring resolutely at the floor. The bed dips from Steve’s weight, but it doesn’t affect the hologram much; the image flickering briefly at the shift. 

 

“Well.” Steve says, treading cautiously, a little bit confused. “What _are_ you ready to give?” 

 

Tony shrugs, still staring blankly at the floor. His voice is flat when he talks. “Reassurance I guess. I overheard some of your conversation with Pepper.” 

 

Steve frowns slightly at him, a bit taken aback that he was listening, but then again, Steve supposes that makes sense. 

 

“Not on purpose.” Tony snaps defensively when he glances over sees Steve’s expression. “If you had wanted a private conversation you should have left the compound.” He hunches over further. 

 

Steve blinks, thrown off by the sharp response. “Um. I...wasn’t...accusing you of anything?” 

 

“Well it sure didn’t look it.” Tony responds. The background systems monitor the compound 24/7, so if you had any qualms about an AI looking after the place, shouldn’t have decided to stay here Captain Judgemental.”

 

Steve stares at Tony, who still refuses to look at him.

 

“...why are you yelling at me.” Steve says after a moment of tense silence, not letting himself respond to the barb. He hadn’t noticed when he had first walked into the room, focusing more on how tired Tony had appeared to be, but now that Steve looks closer, he can see how tense Tony actually is; face drawn; hackles risen, as if rearing for a fight.

 

Tony laughs bitterly, and Steve watches him, utterly bewildered, off-balance and a little hurt. He had intended to talk with Tony, but honestly he hadn’t expected to find him quite so mad...so it _was_ something he had said? He should definitely apologize in that case, but at the same time, he doesn’t even know what he did wrong in the first place.  

 

“What’s the matter?” Tony’s voice has gone back to being devoid of all emotion. He is disturbingly good at that; at putting up his mask at a moment’s notice. “We decided at the beginning we’d talk to each other about our issues right? Total honesty. Because we’re such good _friends._ ” Tony snorts. “Or are you going back on that? Why? Is it because you’re worried something is wrong with me? Are you scared Rogers?”

 

“What?” Steve asks, confused as hell. 

 

“Oh don’t act dumb.” Tony says dully. “I’m not broken, so you can stop your little speculations with Pepper. I get it. I’m an AI, but I’m not gonna just kill you all in your sleep, so you can unclench.” 

 

Steve blinks in confusion and then thinks back. _“little speculations with Pepper”_ , and _oh_ Tony means…

 

“What? No, Tony that wasn’t - I’m not _scared_ of you, I was just _worried_ -” 

 

“-that there was a malfunction and now I’m gonna hurt the Avengers, yeah I got that.” Tony cuts him off sharply, voice dead. “Well whatever, I’m just here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about it, but I guess you wouldn’t really want to take an AI’s word for it do you. It’s noted anyways, I’ll keep my distance just-” 

 

He nods to himself, not finishing his sentence, and Steve feels like Tony’s two seconds from leaving and panics. 

 

“Tony, what the _fuck.”_

 

Oh. 

 

Well. Steve hadn't intended to say _that,_ let alone so loudly, that’s...not really the start of a productive conversation. 

 

But then again, Tony has paused in his tracks at this point and isn’t flickering out, so Steve doesn’t bother to correct himself and keeps going. “No seriously. What the _hell_ , what, you just hear _half_ a conversation and just assume the worst?” 

 

“Well, there’s not a lot of interpretations available is there-” 

 

“I was worried about _you,_ you dick.” 

 

Oop. Nope, no, too confrontational, and now Tony looks angry, the expression breaking past his tense facade. Steve lowers his voice to an agitated murmur. “What the hell was I supposed to think, when you just suddenly froze and started babbling, and then _left_ with no explanation for twenty minutes, and then locked me out of the lab -” 

 

“ - well I’m sorry if I can’t be fucking cheerful for you all the time,” Tony snaps, looking entirely too hurt and worn-out. “I just figured you’d still treat me like a _person,_ not a goddamned _machine_ , you don’t automatically wonder if a human is mentally _ill_ if they get a little upset -”

 

“I, _what?_ Mentally- what does that have to do with anything? I wasn’t?? And of _course_ I don’t mind if you get upset-” 

 

“-oh you don’t _mind_ , how magnanimous of you-” 

 

“Tony, _please,_ just _let me talk.”_ Steve groans and Tony finally falls into a mutinous silence, still glaring daggers at the floor. 

 

Steve sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. “None of this is coming out correctly.” 

 

Tony sits in stony silence and doesn’t say anything in response.

 

“Look.” Steve squints at Tony. “I’m going to be real with you, I actually have _no clue_ what this conversation is about exactly-” 

 

Tony opens his mouth to retort, and Steve waves his hands frantically. “No, stop, I’m not _trying_ to say anything with that, or make an _excuse_ , or whatever you think I’m doing okay? I’m _actually_ confused. So just listen _please._ I’m...I’m not out to get you. _”_

 

Tony’s still glaring but seems less inclined to interrupt, so Steve continues. 

 

“Okay, so I’m assuming I did something...said something? And it was upsetting. So I’m going to talk about my point of view, starting from the phone call okay? Because you mentioned that specifically.” Tony doesn’t make any verbal response, so Steve keeps talking. 

 

“You mentioned speculations or something, and...I wondered if there was something wrong with your systems because I was worried something was _hurting_ you and you were trying to _hide_ it. You left so abruptly and you looked so _pained_ , I just-”

 

Tony frowns. 

 

“Because God knows human Tony had no qualms about hiding his injuries _ever,_ ” Steve continues exasperatedly. “and I was _scared_ because we have doctors if a person is injured, but you’re an AI and none of us even know how to _help you_ if there’s something seriously wrong. I wasn’t _scared_ of _you_ , and you said...killing us all in our sleep? Broken? Just no. That hadn’t even crossed my mind.” 

 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “And yeah, I apologize for that actually, because I shouldn’t contribute your emotions to a programming thing, now that I think about it, that’s a very very shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry for doing that. But it was just an errant thought, and I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I _swear_. I was just worried and confused about why you left because from only my point of view, nothing unusual had happened, and so my mind just went there, but I wasn’t trying to - Pepper didn’t mean anything bad either by the way, she kinda just understood what I meant and so I didn’t actually say all of what I was thinking out loud, I mean, you only heard a bit of what I said to Pepper and you just -” 

 

Steve makes an irritated noise and cuts himself off before he can start ranting about the fact that Tony didn’t just _ask_ him what he meant first before ambushing him, because no, this is not the time. “-besides, I was only discussing this entire thing with her because I was, one; worried _out of my mind_ , and two; she had a request, and I kinda figured you wouldn’t exactly be up to that at the moment.”

 

Silence. 

 

“I…” Tony says hesitantly, looking bewildered and still not entirely convinced. 

 

“So that’s one thing.” Steve says, ignoring Tony’s confused staring to forge on. “And as for the lab thing, I just. _How_ did you even jump from what I said to _mental illness_ ? I just? What?” Steve stops to give Tony a perplexed look. “I have no idea where this is coming from, but Tony, there is nothing _wrong_ with having a mental illness regardless of that. I had PTSD and nightmares for the longest time, and I still have that. All the Avengers are technically “mentally ill”, there’s no shame in it-” 

 

At this point Tony’s still frowning slightly at Steve, but seems to have lowered his defenses a bit, no longer looking so ready to throw down at the slightest provocation. 

 

“-I was just anxious because I thought it was something _I_ did or said, and we’ve been getting better at talking, but then it seemed bad enough for you to need time alone and then I was _really_ hoping it wasn’t me. Pepper seemed to understand though, so I talked to her about it a bit, not much though - I mean, I did ask her what Yinsen meant, which was kind of overstepping bounds so I apologize for that, but she knew what it meant already-”

 

“Wait what?” Tony interrupts, looking confused and but also a bit buoyed, a spark igniting suddenly in his eyes. “She knew who-um- what it meant?” 

 

Steve pauses, thrown at the interruption. “Yeah she already-oh wait.” Steve suddenly feels like kicking himself because _how_ did he not think of this before? “Wait, you should talk to her then! If she already knows, that’ll probably help right? Then you won’t have to explain as much -” 

 

Tony nods, now looking uncertain again, so Steve dials back a bit. “I mean of course that’s entirely up to you - I didn’t tell her anything other than that, she just happened to know about what it meant when I asked. I figured you should tell her the rest yourself if you want to, because yeah privacy so. There. That. Um.” 

 

Steve trails off after he finishes babbling, not sure exactly what to say now. The silence is decidedly awkward, and he fidgets a bit.

 

"Really?" Tony's voice is back to hesitant now and still too cautious, and it...kinda. It kinda hurts.  That Tony can’t give him the benefit of the doubt, even though Steve knows that’s illogical. Steve recognizes the fact now that it’s just a stupid misunderstanding, but at the same time it kinda stings that Tony just jumped immediately to the wrong conclusion. 

 

The AI’s expression is still slightly disbelieving now but rapidly changing into tentative… hope? "You weren’t trying to - and you were worried - so it wasn't - you were - _really_?"

 

"Yes." Steve sighs, a bit frustrated.  _"Christ_ Tony. Have you been sitting on this since yesterday afternoon? Instead of asking me? You're an important part of this team! We got off on a bad start but I've been trying my hardest to treat you like I would any other person, but...I...I guess I haven't been doing a very good job if you still think-" Steve plants his face in his hands, suddenly just very very upset.  His next words are muffled as a result, and probably barely intelligible, but Steve's too... _gah_ to care. "Why do you always just...jump to the worst conclusion, I-” 

 

Tony clears his throat awkwardly. He looks incredibly uncomfortable now. 

 

 _Good._ Steve thinks rather petulantly, and yeah it’s childish; but it’s five am and he just got yelled at over a misunderstanding, so he thinks he should be allowed a little childishness at this point.

 

“...actually...this is kind of a first.” Tony says sheepishly. “You know. The jumping to the worst conclusion thing.” 

 

Steve raises his head briefly to give Tony an unimpressed glare. Because, _really_ ? _That’s_ what Tony’s focusing on?

 

“No seriously. I have a recorded 134 interactions in my memory and _technically_ , none of them included jumping to the _worst_ conclusion, you ignored me for a week before our first fight, so _really_ that one was kinda logical if you think about it-” 

 

Steve cuts Tony off with an exasperated groan and collapses back on the bed with a whump, feet dangling off the edge where he had been sitting. 

 

“Just shut up for a bit. Give me a sec so I don’t start shouting in frustration.” Steve grumbles. He rubs a hand over his face wearily, now thoroughly in a shitty mood, and then just lies there, arms on either side of his head. 

 

They sit - or in Steve’s case, lie - in silence for a while. Steve watches the slow lightening of the skies against the ceiling, and then of the slow creep of sunlight as the first golden rays break the horizon, casting shadows on the deckled surface. He breathes deep, calms down from the sort of argument. He’s trying not to take it personally, he knows he shouldn’t, but it’s a bit hard when someone just automatically assumes the worst of you, even if it’s not often. Steve likes to believe he’s been treating Tony well, but...maybe he’s just deluding himself. 

 

Steve loses track of how long they just stay there, not saying anything, but Tony eventually leans over a bit to look at Steve, who still stares resolutely at the ceiling, ignoring him. Tony seems to have calmed down more at this point as well, face neutral as he gazes down at Steve. 

 

“Just out of curiosity,” Tony asks quietly, finally breaking the heavy silence. “were you and human Tony ever this shit at communicating?” 

 

Steve snorts, finally meeting Tony’s eyes. 

 

“We were like a million times worse.” he says quietly. And despite these little errors in communication that Steve seems to keep having with AI Tony, it’s still the truth. Because Steve doesn’t think he’s ever been as bad at talking with any one human being as he had with Tony Stark. Banter, yes. Actual talking, no. 

 

Sometimes he wonders why it was so hard for them to speak to each other, for him to just...talk with Tony when he admired and respected him, even when he wanted desperately to be his friend. And then he fucked up. He fucked up horribly, and it became almost impossible for them to even be in the same _room_ as each other, let alone have a conversation. It was always...difficult. 

 

Tony nods sedately.

 

“...is it bad that that kinda makes me feel better about this?” he asks tentatively, the corner of his lips curling into a small smirk and Steve laughs in spite of himself. 

 

“Yes it is.” Steve grumbles, rolling his eyes and trying and failing to hide his grin. “Very bad. Bad AI. _Baaad_.” 

 

Tony huffs. “Okay, yeah I deserved that.”

 

“Hmm.” 

 

Steve goes back to staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the fact that Tony is still studying him from his position, half sitting, and half “leaning” on an elbow so he can look at Steve. From his peripheral vision, Steve can see how Tony’s eyes flick over his face, expression still tired, but open now. Calm. He’s just observing. He’s...very close. 

 

“Are you angry?” the question is even quieter, and Steve shifts his head a bit sideways in order to meet Tony’s eyes properly. Tony’s head is tilted and looks almost...curious. Inquisitive. A little bit teasing. It takes a second for Steve to answer, because he gets distracted by the play of the rays of the sun washing the ceiling and walls in colour instead of the usual shell white, lighting up Tony’s eyes into hazel and gold, and parts of him become translucent from the glow, like a spirit, a ghost. Steve’s fingers itch for a sketchpad and pencils.

 

“No.” Steve says quietly back. “I think I’m more annoyed than angry. I just…” He trails off hesitantly, not sure if he wants to hear the answer. “...is it my fault?” 

 

Tony blinks. “Is what your fault?” 

 

“Y’know.” Steve says sadly, thinking back to their first argument. “The...shutting out of the lab thing. And this. Everything.” 

 

Tony frowns, looking a bit bewildered. “What? No, Steve, that lab thing had pretty much nothing to do with you, you were kinda just...there.” Steve frowns back at Tony, not entirely convinced, and Tony huffs, shifting forward towards Steve more so he doesn’t have to crane his neck to keep eye contact. It’s almost a bit unnerving to see him move, expecting to hear the shifting of fabric and instead getting...silence.

 

“I’m...not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet,” Tony admits, and his face grows haggard again at the memory of what happened in the workshop, and Steve wants to know now, more than anything, but he holds it in. “I...need time. More time. I know after that outburst I probably owe you a hell of an explanation, but. I just. I _can’t._ ” 

 

Tony sucks in a breath shakily and closes his eyes. “It wasn’t anything _you_ did though, I just remembered _something_ and it rattled me. Actually that’s an understatement. It blew everything I knew to fucking smithereens. I left so I could process. And what you said about the malfunction thing...about being broken...this situation...it kinda hit a little close to home. I was just not in a good place yesterday; I already wasn’t thinking clearly, like _at all_ , and suddenly hearing you say all that...well you can imagine how it sounded, and it played right into some insecurities. _So_ many insecurities Steve, honestly I could write a dictionary of them. Webster’s Dictionary of Worries A - Z” 

 

Tony gives him a shaky smile at the attempted joke. Steve wants to hug him, because he just looks so uncertain and shaken, but he can’t, so he settles for turning his body a bit, shifting closer to offer silent comfort. Tony seems to get what he’s trying to do because his smile becomes thankful before he forges on. “and I guess I just...thought the worse.” Tony meets Steve’s eyes sternly. “ _That_ wasn’t because of you either okay? The insecurity, it was just…” Tony looks away awkwardly, shrugging. “...my own hang-ups I guess.” 

 

“Nothing wrong with having hang-ups.” Steve reminds him again; Tony gives him a grin that Steve returns hesitantly.

 

“You’re sure though?” Steve continues, still not entirely convinced. “That it’s not...my fault. I didn’t say anything?” 

 

Tony hesitates, and Steve frowns in worry. 

 

“Shellhead?”

 

“Not your fault Steve.” Tony whispers, shaking his head. “It was a perfectly mundane sentence. You couldn’t have known. Hell, _I_ didn’t even know.” 

 

Steve stares at him in horror. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry-Tony I- what was the sentence, I won’t say it again -” 

 

“Steve no. It’s not your fault. That sentence is unimportant. Do you hear me?” Tony glares at him. “It is NOT your fault. Any of it. Not the workshop, or the phone call thing.”

 

“It doesn’t sound like it.” 

 

“Well it _is_ ,” Tony huffs, rolling his eyes. “Not your fault that is. Just believe me you stubborn ass, it’s not _you_ . I was mad at Pepper too okay? Intended to yell at her later as well.” Tony wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m _very good_ at that apparently; yelling accusations at innocent people, that is. Clearly. You should be _honoured_ Steve, you were one of the many people featured on the ‘Tony makes very bad decisions’ show. Probably half of New York has been wrongly accused by me at this point. So there, you’re not _special_.” 

 

Steve snorts in spite of the guilt roiling in his gut, and Tony sticks his tongue out at him. 

 

“You haven’t even _talked_ to any New Yorkers other than us.” Steve points out dryly. 

 

“See, that’s just how talented I am.” Tony nods seriously. “I don’t even need to speak.” 

 

“Yeah, sure.” Steve says wryly, and then sombers a bit. “Okay. But. Just. I’m here for you if you ever need to talk. And all the Avengers really. You can talk to us...you know that...right?” 

 

Tony’s eyes soften. “I do know that.” He says warmly, and then pauses to frown. “Okay actually, you kinda had to remind me today because I got irrationally angry at you over a misunderstanding, but the point still stands, I know that _now._ ” Tony laughs awkwardly. “ _Jesus_ are we a pair. Anyways. Can’t promise I’ll take you up on the offer though.” Tony shrugs. “You know me.” 

 

“Shellhead.” Steve attempts to give him a dry look, but probably messes that up because he can’t quite hold in a fond smile. Tony laughs. 

 

“Alright alright. I will...hmm, try my best. That’s all I can give you. Sorry Rogers.” he smirks down at Steve, who rolls his eyes and moves on. That’s a fight he can’t win. 

 

“And...you’re okay? Y’know…” Steve wrinkles his nose at the wording but he can’t think of any other way to say it. “...systems-wise?” 

 

Tony purses his lips a bit as he thinks. “I think so. I don’t feel anything wrong with me physically, so I’m like...ninety-nine percent sure this isn’t anything AI threatening. We should be good. ” 

 

“Only ninety-nine percent?” Steve asks, a bit of teasing in his voice. 

 

“It’s almost impossible to be a hundred percent certain of anything, those are great odds I just gave you.” 

 

“Weak.” 

 

“Rude.” Tony huffs. “I’m okay...I…” he fixes Steve with a contemplative look. “You trust me?” 

 

Steve blinks up at Tony in surprise, and then feels a small bittersweet smile curl his lips. “...I do.” 

 

“Well trust me when I say things are okay then. I’ll tell you everything when I manage to wrap my own head around the situation. All questions shall be answered in due time, but. I’m okay. Well. Physically.” Tony sighs and looks down at his hands. “It might take me a while mentally to get used to...what happened. But I’ll be okay.”

 

Steve nods, accepting the answer. Tony nods once as well, as if to say “good” and then shifts away to sit back up. After a couple seconds, Steve follows. 

 

“So…” Tony appears a bit awkward when Steve looks over at him. “You said something about Pepper having a request for me? Earlier? What was it?” 

 

“Oh that.” Steve says, suddenly unsure if he should mention it. “She managed to get leave from SI, and was wondering if this week was a good time to visit you with Morgan and Rhodey, especially to introduce Morgan…Um. She said no pressure though. Your well-being comes first. So. It’s up to you. You don’t even have to decide now if you’re not ready.” 

 

Steve watches Tony process this request and bow his head as he thinks, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm on his thigh. They sit in silence for a couple minutes.

 

“Okay.” He says eventually, face unreadable once again. “Let’s meet.” 

 

Steve blinks, thrown at the answer. “Really? You’re...you’re sure?” 

 

Tony shrugs. “No time like the present.”

 

“I-” Steve gives him an uncertain look. “Okay. Whatever you say then.” 

 

Tony seems to sense Steve’s disbelief, so he sighs and levels him with a serious look. “I’m not  in the best place right now, yes, but it’s gonna take time for me to sort this out. I’m...nervous, but I _want_ to meet them. Morgan and Rhodey. And I can’t keep putting off meeting my _daughter_ and my _best friend._ ”  

 

Tony smiles bitterly. “And I kind of need this too. A reminder, so I don’t forget.” He nods. “I’ll call her. Set up a date and time.” 

 

Steve senses the conversation is over, and Tony’s about to leave, but one final thing nags at him as he watches Tony’s discontented and haggard face. 

 

“A reminder?” He asks quietly, as Tony stands up. 

 

“That I haven’t always been a Merchant of Death.” The expression Tony gives Steve isn’t really a smile, but can’t really be called anything else; a sad, cynical spin to the wry twist of his lips. Steve doesn’t understand that sentence, but then again, there seems to be a lot of things about this entire situation, about _Tony,_ that he could never even begin to puzzle out. He’s always a step behind, rushing to catch up.

 

“Good talk Rogers.” Tony murmurs, and then blinks out, leaving Steve to stare at his empty room with a million questions buzzing under the surface of his skin.

 

* * *

 

Not one to dawdle after something is set, Pepper arrives the next day with Morgan and Rhodey.

 

Steve waits for their arrival in the living room, sitting on the couch and idly flipping through a book, with Peter and Harley squished together on an armchair and scrolling quietly through their phones, occasionally laughing when they find something funny. It’s technically a school day, but Aunt May and Harley’s mom had both agreed that this was probably important enough to risk skipping one day of their education.

 

The rest of the Avengers were either out or otherwise occupied; with Wanda training with Dr. Strange, Scott at home with Hope and Cassandra, and Bruce working in the lab. The only reason that Steve hadn’t made himself scarce as well (it is a _Stark_ family event after all, and Steve doesn’t feel comfortable with intruding) is because Tony had asked him to stay until they arrive. So he is. It’s not exactly a hardship; he loves seeing Pepper, Morgan and Rhodey.

 

The waiting is tense; Tony spends the entire time fidgeting, pacing around, opening and re-opening his blueprints, and generally ignoring Peter, Harley and Steve anytime they try and talk to him.

 

The only thing he says when they ask if he’s okay is that he’s accidentally designed a toaster that will probably self-destruct and destroy Manhattan if anyone ever tries to use it. Steve takes it to be Tony-speak for “I am very nervous right now.” 

 

Him resolutely ignoring all attempts at conversation, even from Harley and Peter translates into general-speak as, “please don’t talk to me at the moment” so after a worried glance exchanged between the three of them, they allow the room to descend into silence. Not quite the uncomfortable sort of silence, but not really relaxed either. Just...nervous. 

 

After another half an hour, the nothingness only punctured by Tony’s anxious muttering, and the rustling of pages from Steve as he absently pages through a book, Tony suddenly freezes, looking absolutely terrified. It would be comical if the situation wasn’t quite so important.

 

Steve takes that as his cue to get the door, and stands up, jogging quickly down the hall. 

 

Rhodey, Happy, Pepper and Morgan are all waiting there when Steve finally arrives; he gets tackled by Morgan, says a warm hello to everyone else (hugs all around) and leads the way to the living room sedately, thoroughly worried despite himself. He’s not the only one, Morgan might be the only person who is actually relaxed at the moment, her tiny hand in Steve’s where she had grabbed it upon entering, swinging their arms and humming happily. 

 

There’s a moment of breathless anticipation when they finally step into the room, Harley and Peter looking up from where they’re seated on the sofa, and Tony’s back is to the door at the moment, because he seemed to be talking to Peter, but he turns around when he hears them enter, face a mask of uncertainty and fear. And then. 

 

There’s a sharp gasp from beside Steve. 

 

“Daddy!” Morgan shouts happily, full of innocent joy, and she launches herself across the room. Steve tenses along with Happy, Rhodey and Pepper, because if she tries to hug Tony that won’t go well at _all_ , Steve knows Pepper has explained everything to her, but what if she doesn’t remember, what if, what if, what if-

 

But their worries seem to be for nothing, because Morgan stops short of making physical contact with Tony, choosing instead to stop at his feet, bouncing on her toes in excitement and barely contained energy. 

 

From Steve’s vantage point, he can only see Tony’s face, not Morgan’s since she’s facing away, but it really says it all, that look of awe as Morgan starts babbling at him a mile a minute, talking about how much she missed him, and how “Mommy explained that you’re an AI that’s so cool!” and “it’s okay, I love you 3000 anyways, even though Happy says you don’t remember much”. 

 

Steve feels like his heart is overfull as he watches Tony’s expression, captivated and unable to look away, watches it go from fear to disbelief to awe to softness and warmth, the brittleness from yesterday melting, and Steve _knows_ he’s watching Tony fall in love with his little girl all over again and it’s _beautiful_. 

 

“Morgan,” Tony says, heartbreakingly gentle, and smiles down at her as the little girl giggles happily. 

 

“That’s me!” she says gleefully, and Tony laughs, eyes sparkling, and crouches down so that he’s eye-level with her. “I think we’ve got a lot to catch up on.” 

 

She nods solemnly in response. “Yeah we do. I still hafta tell you about how I won first place in the science fair!”

 

“Sounds like a plan kiddo.” 

 

Steve finally turns away as Morgan and Tony keep talking, and sees Pepper in the process of wiping away joyful tears, Happy’s arm slung across her shoulder on one side, and Rhodey with a reassuring hand on her arm on her other side. All three of them have identical warm smiles plastered on their faces.

 

Steve grins, heart aching gladly for them. 

 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?” Steve says to them quietly over the sound of Morgan and Tony’s conversation. Pepper seems almost about to protest, going as far as opening her mouth, but Steve shakes his head slightly. This reunion isn’t for him. 

 

He nods at them reassuringly before he leaves, and Rhodey’s the nearest to him, so he smiles and gives him a friendly slap on the back before he walks forward to where Morgan and Tony have joined Peter and Harley on the couch, Pepper and Happy following behind. 

 

Steve lets himself out quietly, and makes his way towards his room.

 

* * *

 

It’s maybe two or three hours later when there’s a subdued knock on Steve’s door. He looks up from where he’s been doodling idly in the margins of a notebook, and gets up to answer, surprised to see Rhodey on the other side with a napping Morgan in his arms. 

 

“Hey man,” he whispers giving Steve a sheepish smile. “Really sorry to bother you, but pipsqueak kind of fell asleep - she was up all night excited about the visit today. Do you mind watching her for a bit? We kinda wanted a chance to catch up with Tony as well, but all of us are afraid of talking too loudly while Morgan’s asleep; she’s exhausted.” 

 

Steve blinks in surprise. “I - yes, of course, I can watch her,” he says, opening his door wider so Rhodey can come in and deposit Morgan on the bed, “that’s totally fine, I-um. Hi?” he says, more bewildered when Peter and Harley follow Rhodey inside; Steve hadn’t noticed them before, Rhodey’s six foot and well muscled frame having blocked them from view.

 

“We got exiled as well,” Peter whispers, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Time for an old people gossip session,” Harley agrees, snickering, and Rhodey slaps them both gently on the back of the head when he goes to leave. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Rhodey says quietly, giving him a smile. Steve waves his hand in response, “No hassle, don’t worry about it.” 

 

Then he turns to Peter and Harley as the door shuts, still kind of bewildered. “I still don’t get why you guys are here though?” 

 

Harley gives him a fake wounded look, “Do you not want us here Steve? I thought we had something, I thought you _cared_ -” 

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve snorts, giving them an unimpressed look at the avoidance of the question, voice lowered so as not to disturb Morgan. “And you know it.” 

 

Peter shrugs, throwing himself into Steve’s chair, and eyeing his notebook curiously. “You got stuck with babysitting duty.” 

 

Steve stares. “Peter, you’ve been to _space_.” 

 

“ _With_ adult supervision,” he points out smugly. “It was Tony, so _dubious_ adult supervision, but supervision nonetheless-” 

 

“Yeah, stop trying to throw our weak and defenseless selves to the wolves Steve,” Harley snickers, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Left alone in the compound to fend for ourselves-”

 

“You’re here literally everyday,” Steve points out with a chuckle, kind of suspecting that they’re just here to keep him company, and sits down beside Harley on the bed. “At this point, I’m not entirely sure you two _don’t_ live here.” 

 

“Technicalities.” Peter shrugs. 

 

“Oh my god, wait, you have Harry Potter,” Harley exclaims suddenly in a hushed voice, and makes a grab for the DVD case sitting on Steve’s desk shelf. “That’s it, we’re watching this while we wait to be unexiled, everyone shut up now, from here on out you and your thoughts are utterly irrelevant.”

 

He pops the DVD into Steve’s computer, and then there’s just quiet and avid movie-watching until Morgan finally wakes up an hour and a half later, adorably sleepy and eager to get back to talking with Tony.

 

Steve makes his way out to the common living areas along with Peter and Harley, Peter carrying a still drowsy Morgan in his arms. It’s almost five o’clock at this point, and Steve intends to cook some food this time, they’ve been eating a disturbing amount of takeout the past few days. 

 

Everyone seems to just be chatting idly when they enter, and Tony glances towards the door, his face lighting up when he sees Peter holding Morgan. 

 

Steve smiles and makes his way to the kitchen, letting them get back to it. 

 

He lets himself get lost in the rhythm of cooking, hideous pink apron back on as he works to prepare a meal big enough for everyone. 

 

He pops back into the living room briefly at one point to convince Pepper, Rhodey, Morgan and Happy to stay for dinner - Morgan’s cheers following him back into the kitchen - and then runs to the stove to stir the huge pot of pasta sauce that’s been simmering. It’s one of the things Steve’s pretty good at making if he does say so himself; he never claimed to be a master chef, but he got a lot better in the months staying at Pepper’s place. He had done a lot of cooking for everyone there, eager to take his mind off his grief at the time. His mind drifts as he stands there, adding in ingredients as he stirs.

 

Wanda wanders into the dining room at one point after he starts setting the table - the sauce left to bubble merrily in the closed pot - evidently having returned from her visit to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

 

“Hey,” she says, giving him a hug in greeting before she grabs some plates out of his hands to help. “I walked past the kitchen after I said hi to everyone. Dinner smells _amazing_.” 

 

“Thank you,” Steve smiles as he heads back to check on the food, “Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Morgan are staying to eat so I thought take-out might not be the most appropriate thing.” 

 

“True,” Wanda agrees, following after him. “Morgan’s grown so much since I last saw her, I almost don’t recognize her.” she says fondly. 

 

Steve hums in agreement, lifting up the lid of the pot to check on the sauce. “So, how was training today?” 

 

Wanda’s exasperated groan says it all, and Steve laughs. “Don’t worry. I won’t pretend to understand anything about magic, but I’m sure you’ll get it - whatever 'it' is - eventually.” 

 

Wanda hums in vague agreement, turning to grab some glasses for drinks and bustling out of the kitchen, trailing magic-infused floating cups when there proves to be too much for her to carry in her arms. 

 

“Hey, after you’re done doing that, can you let Bruce know that dinner will be ready in about ten minutes?” Steve calls out of the kitchen absently, poking at one of the pasta noodles with a spoon to see if it’s cooked properly. 

 

“Sure thing!” comes the called reply, and Steve turns the stove off to let the pots simmer on residual heat, leaving to go give the group in the living room a heads up as well. 

 

About five minutes later, the kitchen and dining room is bustling with people as Bruce greets Rhodey, Pepper and Happy warmly, Morgan talking happily at everyone and climbing all over Harley, the room filled with laughter and conversation. Steve is in the process of slicing up the loaves of bread Wanda had bought at a bakery a couple days ago and putting them in the bread basket, and he smiles as he watches everyone interacting and helping out. Rhodey and Happy carry out the pots eventually, dishing out portions into the bowls. 

 

“How horrifyingly domestic,” an amused voice says as Steve moves to put the bread knife away, and he turns to see Tony there beside him, expression happy and open, smiling easier than he had a couple hours ago. Steve grins in response, brandishing the knife he’s still holding at the hologram. 

 

“Just go sit down mister.” 

 

“Yes dear.” 

 

Steve laughs.

 

* * *

 

It’s late by the time dinner actually ends, everyone lingering around the table to talk, and then pitching in when Bruce gets up to start clearing the table, the clean-up becoming a family event in the process. 

 

Pepper chases Happy with a foamy sponge, Wanda keeps making silverware levitate, Morgan is declared the Greatest Dish Dryer in the Universe™, Tony keeps shutting off the high-tech faucet at random times just to be annoying, and Bruce breaks one of the plates because he was laughing so hard at a joke Rhodey told that he forgets he’s holding one and accidentally lets go. 

 

It’s chaotic and loud and messy, and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

They see everyone off when clean-up is finished, Morgan half-asleep on Pepper’s shoulder as Tony says goodbye and promises to see her again soon, Harley and Peter leaving with them when Happy offers to give them a ride back to their homes. 

 

“I took your advice you know.” Tony says quietly after Bruce had gone off to bed, yawning. Steve looks over curiously from where he’s shutting the door, not entirely sure what Tony’s referring to. 

 

“The Yinsen thing. I talked to Pepper today. Well. Actually, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. Apparently they all knew. They don’t know everything of course, and I’m not sure I’m ready to disclose it all yet. I got some...working theories about why I froze up in the lab that I’m not ready to talk about but. Yeah.” 

 

Steve nods in understanding, leaning against the wall to listen. “I’m glad. How do you feel?” 

 

Tony smiles slightly. “Lighter. I’m not okay but. It’s a start.”

 

Steve nods again, because honestly, that’s all you can really ask for. For a start that leads to something brighter. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“Anytime Tony.” 

 

Steve heads to bed after that, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. It’s been an exhausting day, so almost like a reward, when Steve dreams that night, it’s sweet. 

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Sam and Bucky arrive back on compound as discreet as can be, and calls a team meeting. 

 

Steve isn’t actually there the moment they arrive back; it’s a rare break from routine (yeah, Steve knows he’s rather predictable) but Steve had run out of pages in his sketchbook, so he had been visiting the inner city, mainly shopping for some more art supplies, and other little things Bruce, Wanda and Scott had requested he buy. He could get most of the stuff delivered true, it’s mind boggling what you can do with online shopping here in the twenty-first century, but he’s always preferred to shop in person. 

 

Plus he hasn’t truly left the compound in quite a while - calls to assemble notwithstanding - and even he can admit he’s kind of becoming a hermit. 

 

Tony lets him know about Sam and Bucky’s return - and the subsequent team meeting - as soon as Steve enters the hangar, citing that they’ve also called in Clint, Hope and Maria Hill. _That_ makes Steve tense up a bit; if the situation is dire enough that Sam had asked for backup…

 

He quickly parks his motorcycle and grabs the supplies he bought, depositing them where they belong and jogging down to the meeting room. Everyone - the current Avengers plus Maria, Harley and Clint - is already there by the time he arrives, seated around the table, with Sam standing at the front, changed out of his tactical gear into a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt. Bucky’s seated at his right, a variety of documents and a Stark laptop sitting in front of him.

 

“Her name is Pearl Jeffreys” Sam says tensely, as soon as Steve takes his seat at the table after nodding a greeting at everyone. 

 

“The HYDRA agent.” Maria says. It’s not really a question but Sam nods a confirmation anyways. 

 

“As you already know, Barnes here was sent out with the initial mission of tracking down what we previously thought was stolen nanotechnology in that first encounter during the call to assemble. ” Sam begins. “I went with him as backup.”

 

Bucky mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “backup my _ass_ ” which Sam ignores. Despite the tense atmosphere, Steve finds himself smothering a smile, which Tony seems to sense because he gives him an amused look across the table, eyes sparkling knowingly. Steve flushes and looks away. Mission. Hydra Agent. Fighting evil. Right. 

 

“First few days or so, Buck and I spent it undercover, just hitting up old informants, a lot of waiting around, trying to get a trail, something we can follow.” Sam narrates. “We finally hit on something day four; one of Bucky’s old connections as the Winter Soldier got us some info about this high profile criminal who’s been breaking into high security bank-vaults like it’s child’s play. Calls himself ‘The Ghost’.” Sam rolls his eyes, clearly expressing what he thought of that name. “You’ve probably heard of him?” 

 

Steve frowns; he’s not the only one who’s confused out of the Avengers, but then Bruce nods in sudden recognition. “He was on the news,” he says in confirmation, “it was right after that press release from Siren Tech I had been watching; they’ve been baffled on how he manages any of the heists. We’re talking about some of the most secure locations in the world, and he’s always in and out with barely a trace.” 

 

“Well, I assume you know where this is going then,” Buck mutters, “Surprise surprise; he’s been using the nanites. We tracked him down, got some inside information out of him. This entire thing goes...so much deeper than we thought. He’s not the one manufacturing or making the nanotech for his own use: there’s an entire black market _system_ for it.” 

 

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone absorbs this information. 

 

The implications of that. Well. Steve has to be honest. They’re _terrifying._ Just the damage one small container of nanites can do; the Avengers have fought it twice, and almost lost someone just those both times alone, barely managed to defeat it. How do you fight something that’s intangible, is programmed with the ability to become _anything_ really that the user desires, has next to no weaknesses. If someone is selling them as weapons...

 

Steve glances around the conference table and then frowns as his gaze falls on Tony. Everyone is grim, but he seems almost the most tense out of all of them, anger smoldering in his eyes and rigid angles etched into the line of his body, the rest of his face an uncompromising mask of neutrality. He looks. Well, frozen is one way to describe it. 

 

“Shit.” Scott summarizes eloquently. Steve wholeheartedly agrees with his sentiments, and judging by the atmosphere in the room, so does everyone else. 

 

“The only reason we haven’t encountered more of these incidents,” Sam continues in, pulling Steve’s attention away from their resident AI genius, who is doing a pretty good job of mimicking a stone statue, “is because the tech itself ain’t cheap. Not everyone can afford it, and not everyone knows about it. And most importantly, no one seems to actually know who or what the source is.” 

 

Bucky shrugs, “Not an uncommon way of doing business; it’s sold through word of mouth, always from a friend of a friend - using ‘friend’ in the loosest sense of the word, of course - we tracked down the guy who hooked our little thief up to the nanites; followed the trail from there. There were a couple of close shaves, but after Bruce’s call about the HYDRA agent, we kept a look out and stumbled on the information by pure dumb luck. There was a small organization within the system that had been selling to multiple buyers. They kept a paper record of the budget, and guess who was a customer?” 

“Any chance of it being the wrong person?” Hope interjects, “We don’t exactly know a lot about her.”

 

“There’s a chance that it’s not the right person,” Sam affirms, “but our odds are good; she fits the profile we have on her to a tee.” 

 

“How much information did they have?” Clint asks, and Bucky grunts. “Not a lot. It was a business transaction, and one done in cash at that. We’ve got an identity though, and that’s more than what we had before.” Bucky looks over at Tony and addresses him. “You think you could do anything with that Tony?” 

 

Tony meets Bucky’s questioning gaze from where he had been staring at the table. “Pearl Jeffrey was it?” Tony nods, and his eyes are pure steel, even from where Steve is sitting, a conference table away. “If there’s even a remote technological trail, I can find it.” 

 

Sam nods, “Things led to nowhere after that. An organization is a lot harder to shake down for information, so we left before we could be discovered and headed back. Although, security was lax at that last location; the biggest obstacle was knowing, it wasn’t exactly Fort Knox despite the million dollars of tech.” Bucky reaches into his bag at that to pull out a small, clear box. 

 

Steve’s mind doesn’t really register what he’s looking at at first; when it does, Steve feels an almost mortifying urge to laugh hysterically, because it’s a goddamned _Dora themed_ _tupperware_ of deadly unactivated nanites. _How_ did this become his life. 

 

“Dude. Really?” Peter asks incredulously. Bucky rolls his eyes. “It was the only one left at the dollar store. Sue me.” 

 

Tony however, is focused solely on the sample, eyes razor sharp. “That for me Barnes? A present? _Aww_ you shouldn’t have. I’m more of a Diego guy though.” 

 

Bucky snorts. “Yeah yeah, merry early Christmas Tony. We figured you’d be able to help analyze this shit.” He holds the box out, looking like he’s intending to hand it off to the person beside him - Maria in this case - since she’s actually able to pick it up.

 

Tony flickers out immediately, and at the same moment there’s a loud cracking sound from a corner of the room and then a whir. Scott startles badly and swears; the room tenses as an old generation Iron Man armour assembles from the suitcase that snapped open, the unassuming box sitting unnoticed in the corner of the room until now. Bruce seems to be the only one unsurprised. 

 

Tony flickers back in beside the Iron Man armour as the gauntlet reaches over to take the tupperware of nanites gently from Bucky’s hand. 

 

“Shit Tony. Fucking _really?”_ Maria hisses, hand over her heart. 

 

Tony grins, sharklike. “What can I say Agent Hill? You know I’m a paranoid bastard.” he sweeps a cursory glance over the tupperware still clutched in Iron Man’s gauntlet, face growing serious. “SHIELD’s not getting this one Maria...I need to check to see if these nanites are similar to the bleeding edge armour. And no one else is getting any possible blueprints of my tech if I can help it.” Tony’s voice brooks no argument. 

 

Maria frowns as she watches him, but after a tense second, nods in understanding. “Fury won’t be happy.” 

 

“Fury’s never happy.” Maria snorts and shrugs. 

 

The conversation turns quickly to a possible course of action after that. Maria will report all the information gained back to Fury so that SHIELD will be on the same page, on the lookout for anything suspicious. Clint agrees to come temporarily out of retirement as a part-time agent; if there’s another nanite attack they’ll need the extra help after the last two times. Bruce, Hope and Scott will help take a look at the structure of the technology along with Tony, try and figure out a weakness. Tony promises to write a new algorithm to search for any trace of Pearl and her background and whereabouts. They discuss calling in a favour with Shuri as well, since it’s naive to assume the dealings are only concentrated in America. 

 

The meeting ends tensely, with Maria rushing to get back to SHIELD headquarters, and Tony flickering out as the Iron Man armour heads back to his workshop, mouth stuck in a tense line. Bruce, Scott and Hope follow the armour as well, talking with Tony via the compound speakers all down the hallway, a stream of unintelligible technical jargon, science and theories. 

 

Clint leaves to call his family and tell them about his temporarily changed status. The rest of the room empties quickly as all the Avengers file out. 

 

Steve watches them, never having felt more useless than he does right now. He knows, logically, that during this kind of search and find mission, when you don’t know all the facts, sometimes all you can do is just wait for the next piece of data, because there’s nothing more you can do.

 

Patience is a virtue, but Steve’s never had a lot of that, even as that thin sickly kid from Brooklyn, always so eager to help, to fight. And so the fact that he can’t really do much at the moment just burrows under his skin, settling there, uncomfortable and always present. 

 

He startles out of his thoughts when a hand settles on his shoulder. 

 

“Hey man,” it’s Sam, peering at him worriedly. “You alright? We heard about the second attack from Bruce. The so-called Winter Soldier here almost blew our cover when we got the news.” 

 

“I did not.” Bucky grumbles as he walks over to stand beside them. Sam gives him an unconvinced look, and Bucky squints back at him. “You drop kick one measly informant and suddenly you ‘almost-blew-our-cover’”

 

Steve lets out a laugh, startled. Bucky grins at him, clapping him on the back. “Seriously though, you okay?” 

 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m in one piece aren’t I?” 

 

“Punk.” Bucky grumbles. “You’re a real idiot Stevie, and I’d whoop your ass over almost getting murdered by a homicidal Hydra agent, but it’s been three weeks and I’m too exhausted to bother.” 

 

Which Steve deftly translates into _“We’re here if you need to talk about it.”_

 

“I hear ya Buck,” he says fondly, giving him a cheeky smile. 

 

“Punk,” Bucky reiterates. “Why am I friends with you.” 

 

Regardless of his words though, Bucky promptly flings one arm around Sam and the other one over Steve’s shoulders, steering them out of the meeting room and down the hall.

 

“Christ,” Sam shudders as they walk, and pokes Bucky in the ribs. He grunts in annoyance. “Why is your metal arm so damn cold, have you been standing in a freezer?” 

 

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbles back. “Come on, we’ve been undercover for three fucking weeks and I miss ice cream and TV. We’ll focus back on a course of action in a couple hours but for now, you two are keeping me company while we re-watch every single episode of The Office.” 

 

Sam goes back to grumbling, but Steve honestly has no complaints with that, so he falls silent and allows himself to be led to the living room where Harley and Peter are already there bickering over the remote. 

 

The itch to go out and do something doesn’t fade remotely throughout the duration of their impromptu The Office marathon, but Steve figures that if he’s not gonna be here keeping Sam and Bucky company, he’s only going to be in the gym destroying heavy bags from pent-up frustration, and in hindsight, both are equally useless in this situation, so he stays here and watches, and stays thoroughly distracted the entire time. 

 

Steve’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the meeting, because of the fact that the situation is just in the forefront of his mind, but he keeps going back to the moment the HYDRA agent got a hold of him, that strangle hold, the free fall, the safety of the Iron Man armour, Tony’s guilt…

 

Either way, Steve finds himself leaving with his excuses around the fifth episode of the first season, heading back to his room. He needs something else to take his mind off things since TV shows don’t seem to be working, and it’s only after he’s broken out a good portion of his new art supplies sketching an intangible outline that he realizes the picture he’s drawing has morphed into Tony somehow, iridescent and glowing, pieces of the Iron Man armour on, hugging his slender curves, with the rest of it floating in pieces around him, a halo of protection and defense.

 

He puts down his pencil slowly when he finishes the general outline and swallows as he stares down at that handsome face that smirks up at him from the page. He reaches for the new oil pastels he bought, smudging red and gold over the paper.

 

It brings him comfort somehow, that rhythm of shading in the colours, correcting and readjusting as he goes, bringing images to life. The size of the paper he’s using isn’t small, and the colours are rapidly dwindling with the amount he’s using but he doesn’t care. 

  
He pays no mind to the fact that his hands are smeared over with pastels, that his white shirt is covered in the pigment, that there’s red and gold _everywhere_ , shimmering over his skin and his desk and his shirt and probably his neck and even his face because he’s scratched an itch a couple times and he just draws and draws and draws and draws.

It's the only thing he can really do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Steve worries as always, and Tony's got a lot on his mind :)))
> 
> Usually I write a longer end note, but it's kind of 2 am where I am and I have to wake up early tomorrow so I'm just gonna sign off here XDD. Expect some minor edits in the last two days, since I've re-read this chapter for spelling and grammar mistakes but I'm very sleep deprived so there's only so much I can catch lol. You all have been wonderfully patient with me and I appreciate it :) <3
> 
> As always thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit longer than the last because I had to stop it at a point that makes sense lol. Chapter had finally somewhat lived up to the Mature rating for some not really PG-13 thoughts ;)
> 
> A sidenote though: I'm gonna be heading back to China to visit relatives for two weeks, starting tomorrow, and probably won't be able to post anything during that time period, which is why I'm posting a new chapter today. At least the vacation time will give me ample opportunity to write lol.
> 
> This fic has grown into a monster really, I didn't expect it for it to go on this long and it has gotten so damn complicated XDD. It's gonna whoop my ass, but honestly, not that against it :)))

Steve hides the drawing after he finishes it. 

 

He tries to do it without actually looking like he’s trying to hide it, because he’s aware that the AI could probably see anyways, just depends on if Tony is paying attention or not, but no matter how many times he tells himself he’s just putting it away for safe-keeping, that he’s just making sure the pigment doesn’t get messed up, that’s the only reason why he’s shoving it in a box along with his other old sketchbooks, he knows that it’s utter crap. 

 

He’s hiding it, plain and simple. 

 

Drawing for him is...something hard to explain. What he comes up with, ends up creating, always seems to vary with his current mood. There will be those idle doodles, and studies he’ll draw just for practice, and with those, it’s not really anything particularly important to him, and so Steve will literally be willing to draw on every available surface, scribbling all over his hands and the margins of his notebooks and napkins and just  _ everywhere.  _ He’s had more than one incidence of guiltily trying to rub off a drawing he had absently doodled onto a desk or a table, or in one memorable instance, a wall. 

 

And then there will be drawings he puts more effort into, the ones he actually tries to make as life-like as possible, of landscapes and people he sees on the streets, and animals and any manner of things, and those he’ll sketch on actual paper, and treasure a lot more because he put  _ effort  _ into it, but not for any other reason. He can display those if he wants, can give them away as presents, can leave them lying, strewn across his room because he doesn't mind if people see. 

 

But. Then there are the sketches that Steve draws when it all becomes too much, for catharsis and sometimes for simple comfort because he'll find himself reaching for a blank sheet of paper and a pencil before he realizes he's doing it. The drawings he'll pour his soul into, and come out of a daze hours later, fingers cramped and dirty to see a little piece of his heart bleeding onto the page, and those pictures he hides away after he draws them. 

 

There had been a lot of those, after the ice. Drawings of Bucky and Peggy and the Howling Commandos and Brooklyn as he remembers it to be. There had been a lot of sketchbooks hidden away, gathering dust until they were destroyed when Thanos blew up parts of the compound. There hadn’t been a lot left to save, but the ones he did are buried at the bottom of the box that Steve just shoved his drawing of Tony into.

 

Steve's not sure exactly what he's feeling as he stares down at Iron Man's illuminated form on the page. It's almost a mish-mash of different feelings, complex and just...a lot. Too much. He feels restless and useless in that horrible way, melancholic all of a sudden and...something else beyond his grasp, intangible and overflowing and pulsing like a heartbeat, an open wound, yet too muddled to get a clear read on as he stares down at sketched brown eyes. 

 

He remembers the drawings he used to do of the Avengers at the beginning, when they had been little more than strangers and had therefore been convenient to draw anytime Steve had been idle, fingers itching for something to do. The profile of Natasha's jawline after a trip to the gym, Bruce's flash of a smile in the fluorescent light of his lab, the shimmer of Thor's hair in sunlight, the curve of Clint's arm as he draws back the bowstring, and Tony, sketched over and over because he had been the most dynamic of all of them, the most energetic, moving in that fluid graceful and manic way that Steve had never been able to capture in all its complexity. 

 

Tony had been the hardest to draw, and so Steve had found himself sketching him over and over again despite himself, even though anytime Tony opened his mouth, Steve found himself gnashing his teeth in anger. But it was undeniable that Tony was a very attractive subject, and Steve had liked looking at him, liked the challenge of trying to capture him onto a piece of paper and so he had sketched him and the rest of the team everywhere. 

 

Those sketches had been the first type actually because Steve hadn't  _ cared  _ then, angry at himself and the world for doing this to him, man out of time, useless, always useless and always behind and always being poked and prodded and stared at for being different, always something. He had drawn his teammates on napkins and scraps of paper and hadn’t cared where he left them.

 

He would give anything to have those pictures back though, because how could he have known those scraps and strays would somehow turn to pieces of his heart, just as treasured as his sketches of Bucky, the Commandos and Peggy had been?

 

Steve stares down into the box that he places the newest drawing of Tony into, and pulls out one of the sketchbooks he had managed to save - cover ripped and even water-damaged in some cases - and flips through the pages. 

 

The beginning is a picture of Natasha, one of the first ones of the Avengers that he had actually put proper effort into, because she had been one of his first friends in the twenty-first century. She’s in the middle of a flawless Attitude, a ballet move Steve had learned the name of after Nat had finished dancing, her fiery hair in a halo around her head from the upward movement. Steve had sat down with her afterwards on the weight benches, listened to her tell him about her history with ballet, a little piece of her past and her trust that had been given to Steve like a gift; and he had treasured it as such.

 

Steve keeps flipping, going past the pages that are too damaged to make anything of, and stops at a picture he had drawn of Clint after the Loki situation. It's a moment of quiet in the tower, Clint sitting there almost to the edge of the balcony, a small smile on his face, the first in weeks from him after he had gotten his mind back. He looks weary in the picture, but almost content, the calm after the storm, the exhaustion that comes after an ordeal that ends in triumph. Backlit by the New York sunset, the image is undeniably hopeful. Steve had shown it to him afterwards, and Clint had thanked him. 

 

There are a lot of ruined images after that though, one of Bruce that is half blurred from water damage, anger at bay in the lab, eyes manic with the brilliance of his undeniable genius as he works. It had been the few times Steve had gone to Bruce’s labs, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from drawing what he saw. Bruce had smiled when he showed him. 

 

And of course, there's one of Thor in a rare moment when he hadn't been in his armour, instead clad in just a t-shirt and sweatpants, slumped against a kitchen counter at three in the morning in the few instances he hadn't been in New Mexico with Jane. It was one of the first instances where Steve had realized that Thor wasn't all smiles and archaic language and noble demeanour, had listened as he talked about Loki, his brother and not the villain. 

 

And the ones of Tony that Steve had drawn based on the glimpses he’d caught the times he had dragged him out of the lab to eat and drink so he doesn’t die. Steve hadn’t been that close with Tony, which he regrets more than he can say, but even so, he had cared about him, had kept trying to catch that uniqueness on a page over and over and over, the sketches now treasured instead of strewn about like at the beginning. A good portion of the sketchbook is filled with him actually, half of them damaged, but still there. 

 

Steve keeps flipping forward and then pauses, flipping back through the book once. Twice. 

 

How...there’s. Something he hadn’t ever noticed before. 

 

It starts as the pictures of the Avengers become scarcer, Tony, Bruce and Thor no longer appearing in the book. And along with it, the drawings get...darker. Natasha washing blood off her knife. Bucky checking over his guns. Sam sitting slumped against a dirty motel wall, tired and weary. 

 

They’ve lost the shine of previous years. Almost like the artist has lost the wonder he used to hold, replaced with cynicism. It makes him uncomfortable, this realization, and so he snaps the sketchbook shut and turns to the rest of the contents in the box.

 

It’s technically a box of memories, not strictly for drawings; Steve reflects on it as he sifts idly through it. There's the compass that Steve had put away after he came back from the 1960s after his dance with Peggy, after saying goodbye. A lock of Natasha's fiery red hair that he had kept after they had gone undercover and she had chopped it off in favour of a short blonde bob; one of the only pieces of her he has left, since she hadn't had many personal possessions. The burner phone, his out of the pair he had given Tony. 

 

Steve sits there sifting through the box quietly, picks up the burner phone, flips it open and watches as it switches on. It’s still fully charged. Steve’s kept it that way for the two years he was on the run, the line always open, always on; but still never used. Even after Tony had returned from space, Steve had kept it on, foolishly. Even after  _ no trust liar,  _ which Steve deserved, because he had...what? Hoped to have one remaining connection through it all? 

 

After Tony’s death though, he had finally shut the phone off completely, not able to bear the fact that there never _ would  _ be anyone calling him on that phone. Never anyone to answer if Steve ever does call. If he shuts it off, he wouldn’t have had to face the emptiness on the other end of the line. 

 

The cursor blinks up at him, rhythmic and accusing, with only one number to be inputted. 

 

Useless. 

 

He sighs eventually, snapping the phone shut. 

 

He quickly shoves the box - with all items replaced - to the back of his closet, and goes to wash his face and hands and change his clothes so that it won’t look like a pack of crayons exploded on him when he goes down to eat dinner. 

 

* * *

 

Steve’s weird melancholic mood doesn’t really dissipate, even as things fall into a sort of routine in the next few days, as Sam and Bucky get settled in again. In fact, in the upcoming week, it only seems to get worse.

 

There are meetings at SHIELD to get through after Maria has reported all that extra information, tactical meetings and collaborations because after the original SHIELD had disbanded all those years ago, the new fledgeling organization has been extra careful in anything HYDRA related. 

 

And it's not anything big that puts Steve in a bad mood, but there are things that will just seem to sting when it usually wouldn't, staying behind from a meeting that is classified as Avengers only, because now that Sam is back, he's not technically considered one anymore. Not being considered for a certain mission because, well. He's retired obviously. And it's completely irrational because Steve  _ asked  _ for this break at the beginning, and so he realizes he’s being unreasonable, but knowing it doesn’t exactly help.

 

Steve still finds himself leaving the compound often to head to discussions and meetings with the rest of the team of course, because there’s still plenty he does do to help out, always had even before Bucky’s mission. Those meetings however just end up being a lot of dull bureaucracy in the end. 

 

Bruce, Scott, and Tony present what they’ve managed to find on the sample of nanites Bucky stole for them (no they’re not Bleeding Edge - not as advanced or specialized according to Tony - but they’re more than enough to cause lasting damage), possible ways to incapacitate the technology (shock it with electricity and then run away very fast, or shoot it with an EMP; both of which they already knew, and the former of which is not remotely helpful), and any leads that have turned up on Hydra (so far still a big fat none). 

 

Steve's discovered in the years he's been on duty before his retirement that sometimes Avenging really is just a waiting game, but that doesn't mean he likes it. Until their programs or missions turn up an identity or location though, there's nothing more they can do, except sit through endless meetings and paperwork. 

 

Honestly, the most exciting thing that ends up happening is Sam and Fury almost throwing down over the conference table over whether or not Iron Man should be an official part of the team; Fury against, Sam for. 

 

That ends up opening an entire new can of worms actually; checking in with Tony (“You even have to ask? Of course I’m going to fucking fight with you”), checking in with Stark Industries,  and then Steve having a shit-ton of meetings with Pepper to talk about how to handle PR, because Sam does win that particular battle with Fury and the public is bound to notice a gold-titanium suit gallivanting across the skies once again. 

With Rhodey busy as liaison between the Avengers and the military, Steve has apparently become the go-to for Stark Industries and the Avengers without him realizing (not that he minds, but a heads up would have been nice), and so they sit down and talk in length of what to say to the press and how to word it - that Tony had appointed a new pilot for the armour before his death - and what not to say to the press - that Tony had somehow returned in AI form and is now remote controlling millions of dollars worth of deadly weaponized armour. Aka the truth.

 

"Jesus," Steve mutters, as Pepper discusses things rapid fire with the head of PR - a no nonsense woman by the name of Nancy - across the table from him, and crosses yet another line out of the speech. He had never realized how painstaking the background work had been; knowing to say the exact right thing, knowing what sentences to avoid to prevent unwanted questions, to maintain image; Steve had always just said what he had been told to say, barring when he hadn't agreed with the contents. He had never been part of the statement writing process. 

 

But this is worded carefully, polite and succinct, perfect poker face and with good vibes being given off in all directions at all times. Steve can’t help but think you might as well ask him to shit rainbows with how likely that is to happen; not for lack of trying on his part though. He just can’t quite make his face do...that under scrutiny.

 

Pepper looks up and gives him a small sympathetic smile at his exclamation. Steve returns it before Nancy points out yet another flaw in the statement and they get pulled back into terse discussions on whether or not the word “replacement” would cause too much backlash.  

 

The meeting finally ends an hour later, Nancy leaving in a whirlwind of expensive perfume to save the world one public relations crisis at a time, leaving Steve stunned in Pepper’s office. 

 

“Jesus.” Steve reiterates, and Pepper chuckles, finally relaxing back into her chair. 

 

“You could say that again.” 

 

“How do you do this on a  _ daily basis _ ?" Steve wonders, awed as Pepper refills his empty cup from the coffee pot. "Thanks." He gulps from it because super-serum metabolism or not, the placebo still helps. 

 

Pepper raises an eyebrow as she fills her mug as well and stirs in some milk and sugar. "Says the man that saves the world daily." 

 

Steve scoffs. "Well,  _ that’s  _ easy. This is...talking. With people who can hear me. This is actually difficult.” 

 

Pepper laughs at that, but honestly, Steve's really only half-joking. He's never been good at talking, at relations, personal or otherwise. It's somehow always been easier when there's a target, a goal to reach; punch the bad guy, save the world. That he knows.

 

“If you say so.” Pepper says, looking amused.

 

They chat idly for a few minutes after that before Steve gets up to leave so Pepper can get to her next meeting. 

 

“I’ll walk you to the elevators,” she says with a smile, and they head down the hall at a sedate pace, picking up the conversation where they left off.

 

“Oh geez,” Pepper startles as they wait for the elevator, and Steve looks over curiously. “Sorry, I just remembered. I was wondering if you would be attending the Stark Industries Memorial gala this year?” 

 

Steve stares at her, not placing the name at first, before a rush of dread catches him off guard when he remembers. He struggles to keep a neutral expression on his face for a couple of seconds, and then sighs a bit, giving that up as a lost cause. "Oh yeah," he says ruefully, quietly. "That's close now huh." 

 

Pepper nods, the wry twist of her lips sad. 

 

The gala occurs annually, even though it's technically only run about once so far; Tony's death creating a memorial ball to raise funding for a variety of different charities Stark Industries donates to. Steve had declined to go last year, even though the rest of the Avengers had. It had been selfish, Steve realized, unspeakably so even, considering, but he hadn't been able to stomach the thought of it without wanting to be sick, without his breathing becoming harsh and short, all those people giving empty condolences, and Pepper had - impossibly - understood. Sometimes Steve wonders if she's even real if she's not some angel sent down to grace the mere mortals here on Earth with her glorious presence. 

 

And even now Steve’s not remotely immune to the dread and anxiety. Just imagining it is giving him a huge headache, never mind that the serum got rid of those for him, because this is completely mental, the idea of being there with so many people in that suffocating room, smiling and playing for the masses - and yet Steve thinks about that one time he saw Tony and Pepper dancing at a charity event that the Avengers had been invited to, how he had sketched them afterwards flying across the floor, laughing and happy, in that damning sketchbook of his, about how often Tony would put on his plastic smile and brave the masses because he doesn’t have a choice - and knows he’s going to agree to it. 

 

No more running. Steve owes it to Pepper, to the memory of Tony Stark. 

 

"Yeah," Steve says, smiling. "Yeah, I'll be there." and Pepper's returning beaming smile almost makes it worth the gigantic pit that grows in Steve's stomach. 

 

After, Steve heads back to the compound, and he delivers the speech to Sam like the good liaison he is (“Statement would probably have more of an effect if the team leader says it,” Nancy had murmured thoughtfully, scribbling furiously on the draft paper). A day later, he watches from the backstage in unassuming civvies as Sam delivers what needs to be said in the conference room, as the Avengers stand behind him in uniform In Support Of This Message, as the press jumps into questions and shouts, and Bucky waves them all away as they exit. 

 

The media explodes, the response varied - which was to be expected - so for the next few days the Avengers all wear disguises and rarely leave the compound.

 

Taking advantage of the fact that none of them can really escape due to the sudden increase of paparazzi outside the compound walls, Sam ups the training regiment, and the entire team spends many an afternoon trying their best to beat each other up in the name of training, and to get a feel for how Clint and Hope fight, let Tony figure out how they usually work, training towards being a cohesive unit. 

 

Sam asks Steve for reports on how the team has been doing when he was away. Then, before each training session, they sit down with Bucky for at least half an hour and discuss their notes from the last time. And then the training time actually comes and Steve sits out on the sidelines, watching and making notes. It's familiar and Steve knows this dance because that's what he did during team training before Bucky's missions, that's what he's  _ been _ doing for almost two years - barring Steve's training sessions with Peter and Harley of course. 

 

It feels like it should bring him some measure of comfort from his weird mood, returning to something routine and safe. 

 

And yet. 

 

Steve’s sitting in on one of these training sessions one day behind a glass divider, scribbling notes half-heartedly, watching as the team does drills in one of the compound’s more high-tech training grounds, complete with virtual reality and stinging shots representing enemy fire that’s more painful than hurtful. The mic is on, so he can hear everything they’re saying, and the sound of virtual laser shots from the drones that the room uses.

 

The team has been improving slowly in the last week, learning how to fight like a well-oiled machine again, and to integrate Hope, Clint and Scott into their ranks.

 

Clint is pretty easy actually; after years of working alongside him, Steve can tell they all find it pretty simple to fall back into old habits, already familiar with his fighting style and way of thinking. 

 

Hope is more challenging, because other than Scott, none of the others have really teamed up with her. With how many fumbles there are, it’s clear they aren’t used to her fighting style, and they also aren’t used to  _ Scott’s _ slightly changed fighting style while working together with her.

 

Tony is a weirder situation because it's pretty simple for Bruce, Clint, not so much for Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Scott and Hope, and also apparently a little weird for Tony because he obviously never expects how easily they're able to predict what he's about to do. 

 

Steve relates, because even after just meeting him on the helicarrier so long ago, Steve had always been astonished at how  _ easy _ it was to think on the same wavelength as Tony does, knowing exactly when to raise his shield because Tony had needed to bounce a repulser off of it, when Tony was about to swoop in and drop Steve off at the nearest epicentre of activity, and it had been exhilarating in a way, to be so in tune with someone else without any words needing to be exchanged, despite how they fought like cats and dogs off the field. 

 

It was honestly more than a little weird, because Steve couldn’t even figure out how to say good morning to Tony without them getting into fisticuffs, and yet Steve had understood him  _ perfectly _ during a fight. There had been very few people that Steve had felt that way with. 

 

Steve’s glad to see that the situation hasn’t changed now - well, minus the fighting portions obviously - that the team is still able to follow Tony’s actions and movements, and Sam, Wanda and Bucky are honestly not that far behind. 

 

It seems to throw Tony for a loop every time though; he keeps tilting his helmet perplexingly at them, when one of them swoops in during the training sequence to cover Tony's back without him asking, when they follow up with a manoeuvre Tony decides to try out that he hadn't voiced, and it's honestly not very productive because Tony keeps getting taken out shortly after because he gets distracted. That combined with the general confusion of the team towards each other makes for quite an interesting fight.

 

“God fucking damnit.” Steve hears Tony hiss now, the eighth time the training sequence shuts off after he gets “eliminated” along with Hope and Bruce. Steve doesn’t know how he manages, but somehow the Iron Man armour, with lack of facial expression, looks thoroughly fed up. He doesn’t seem to be the only one though, Hope seems pretty tense, and even Sam is frowning a bit at the slow progress from the team. 

 

“You need to stop doing that.” Tony snaps, directing this at Clint, and Bruce. Steve sets down his notepad and clicks the unlock switch, the safety glass sliding to the side to let him into the expansive training room.

 

“Doing what?” Clint’s asking when Steve sidles up to the group.

 

There’s a metallic sigh of frustration from the armour.

 

“You know being all...mind reader and stuff. It’s freaking me out.” 

 

There’s a moment of silence as everyone absorbs this, and suddenly Bruce starts chuckling. The team watches as he laughs. “Tony, we’re not reading your mind. We’ve fought along with you for years and years. It’s just muscle memory. Habit.” 

 

The Iron Man armour crosses its arms, looking almost petulant. Steve tries to hide his smile.

 

“Well,  _ unhabit _ your habit," Tony says indignantly, and the rest of the team bursts into laughter, the previous tension suddenly breaking like a wave. They calm down after a few seconds but then Clint repeats "unhabit your habit" to the L'eggo my eggo theme song, which just sets them off again.

 

“Alright, alright,” Sam finally says, still snickering, “why don’t we take a short break for now. We only just started training after all, it’s alright if things don’t go as smoothly as expected. We’re doing pretty good so far, under the circumstances. Everyone take ten.” 

 

The Avengers disassemble (ha, puns) after that, Peter backflipping off the ceiling to land gently on Bruce’s shoulders, who takes it in stride, as he walks out of the room, chatting with Hope and Bucky as they head out to get some water. Sam and Clint follow behind, and Steve turns to head back to his booth. He doesn't need a break considering all he’s been doing is sitting on his ass and watching, and this would probably be a good time to organize his notes and write a couple more observations.

 

He isn't prepared though, for the sound of repulsors as the Iron Man armour lands beside him.

 

"Shellhead?" Steve turns his head to look at the suit as he picks up his notebook. "You're not going with them?"

 

Tony flickers in with an amused smile as the Iron Man armour stands back at attention. "I don't drink things Steve." He points out with a laugh and Steve flushes because he somehow actually forgot this. 

 

"Oh. Right. No water break then." Steve runs a hand through his hair sheepishly as he sits back on the bench. He offers Tony a smile and manfully resists the urge to ask to be alone because that would probably be rude.

 

Tony frowns at him anyways though, and Steve panics for a minute wondering if he said that last part out loud. The fears are put to rest when Tony opens his mouth.

 

"Um. You ok Rogers? You've got that look on your face."

 

Steve blinks. "That look?"

 

"Y'know." Tony waves his hand loosely to emphasize his point. "Your smile it. Looks different.” 

 

Steve furrows his brow, still confused. 

 

Tony sighs, exasperated. "Like, when you're upset that is. I can't explain it, but. Well your lips look...wrong? No no, wait. That doesn't sound right - " 

 

Tony backtracks hastily as Steve tilts his head at him. “-I didn’t mean it like _ that _ , there’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with your lips, really they’re wonderful if I’m gonna be honest - okay no, ignore that, not going down that road, but you get what I mean, it's just. Different." 

 

Tony clears his throat awkwardly, and Steve finds himself trying to hide a smile and failing utterly. 

 

“My lips are wonderful?” Steve repeats wryly. “Wow. High compliment.” 

 

Tony lets out an offended grunt. 

 

"I thought I told you to ignore that. Okay, look." Tony gestures agitatedly towards Steve's face. "That smile. See? You're laughing at me, because that's your I'm Laughing At You But Too Polite To Show It smile, which - might I point out - is something you seem to do very often and is also a very mean thing Rogers, for shame. And so it’s different. You get what I mean?” 

 

Steve stares at him. 

 

He really doesn’t, but at the same time, it’s not the first instance he’s heard this. Bucky's the only other person who's ever said something along those lines to him when Steve - five foot four and angry at the world - had asked exasperatedly how Bucky just always  _ knows _ when he's about to do something and sets preemptive countermeasures. 

 

_ “Your face, punk.” _ Bucky had said, ruffling his hair. _ “I can read it like an open book. Tells me all I need to know.” _

 

Which had clarified exactly nothing, but. Wow. When has that happened? When had Tony learned to  _ read _ him?

 

Steve stares up at the AI from his seat on the bench, and then double-takes when he comes to an entirely different realization himself. 

 

“In the workshop, your favourite blowtorch is the one that has the switch that always sticks, even though it’s completely irrational and a huge fire hazard.” Steve says and Tony stares. 

 

“Um, yes?” 

 

“You're ambidextrous, at least in your Iron Man armour, but you seem to favour your left hand.”

 

“Okaay…” 

 

“You are  _ way _ too fond of arguing about the merits of different foods even though you haven’t even  _ eaten  _ anything before.” 

 

Tony stares at Steve like he spontaneously started yodelling and tap dancing at the same time. "...arguing is fun. Also what the hell? What brought this on?" 

 

Steve blinks up at Tony, utterly bewildered. And it  _ shouldn’t  _ be a surprise, this revelation but yet it still is. “Are we friends?” Steve asks seriously, sounding faint even to his own ears. “Like really  _ really _ good friends?” 

 

Tony continues staring at him like he’s gone insane. “I’d even venture forward to say you’re one of my best friends, but then again I haven’t been around for that long - unless you don’t...want?” 

 

“No,” Steve hurries to reassure him, “No, no I definitely  _ do  _ want.” 

 

Tony’s smiling now, looking bemused and mirthful. “Okayyy, so what’s the problem?” 

 

“It’s only been two and a half weeks.” Steve points out. “Three and a half technically, but I spent the first one ignoring you. Excuse me if I’m a little surprised that I somehow know your workshop preferences.” 

 

“And who’s fault was that?” Tony snorts, plopping himself down on the bench beside Steve. “We spent a good one and a half weeks straight trying to kindle an epic bromance and recover from the argument  _ you  _ started. You practically lived in my lab that first week.” Tony pretends to swat Steve’s shoulder so he knows he’s just teasing. “Are you really surprised? You have an eidetic memory and I’m a genius.” 

 

Steve frowns, deciding to nitpick. “I don’t remember starting that argument.” 

 

"Well, you did." 

 

“No,” Steve grins, “I distinctly remember  _ you _ waiting to ambush me in my bedroom -” 

 

"Wow, word that more provocatively why don't you -" 

 

“You yelled at  _ me  _ first.” Steve points out triumphantly. 

 

“I plead the fifth.” Tony sniffs and Steve laughs, earning a pleased smile. 

 

Steve lets their conversation descend into a comfortable silence then because he can't really think of anything else to say. 

 

It’s companionable - the silence that is - but there’s only so much staring at the empty training room that Steve can do, so eventually, he looks down at his notes to start crossing out things and writing down more information, since that is kind of the entire reason that Steve is even here. 

 

Back to the usual business. Steve holds in a sigh, and Tony turns to him again, frowning. “Okay, it’s that face again. Really. What’s wrong? Spill.” 

 

Steve shrugs. “Nothings wrong. I’m fine.” 

 

“You know how not remotely convincing that sounded?” 

 

“I’m...nostalgic I think.” Steve explains. “That’s really it though, I’m pretty sure. Leading the Avengers again for a while just reminded me of...before.” He stares out past the safety glass into the training grounds. “I miss it.” 

 

Tony hums thoughtfully, and Steve falls silent again, staring out. He's not expecting a response - there's nothing much you can do for nostalgia - and Tony doesn't offer one, just sitting unobtrusively. After a while though, Steve frowns and looks up at the clock on the wall. 

 

“What’s taking them so long?” He says to Tony, now confused. It’s been a good thirty minutes. 

 

Tony blinks and then starts laughing. “Oh, I know exactly why it’s taking them so long, but we might have to go fetch them if we want them back on track.” 

 

Steve gives Tony a confused look at the cryptic response but doesn't contest it, instead heading for the door. He'll find out soon enough anyway. Tony trails behind him, the Iron Man armour remaining in the training room.

 

“I never thought I’d be the one to drag everyone  _ back  _ to training,” Tony comments as they walk down the halls. An interesting expression flickers across his face, and Steve gets the impression he’s not really looking forward to the prospect. 

 

“How come?” Steve asks at that pensive look and Tony shrugs loosely. 

 

“I’m not really...as comfortable with it as I’d like to be, I guess. I dunno, it’s just. It’s just  _ weird _ .”

 

Steve looks over curiously, not following the logic. “What do you mean?” 

 

“Well, the Avengers seem to  _ know  _ me," Tony says frowning. "Combat-wise I mean. You have all these memories of things you've done together, and I've what, fought with you guys twice? I barely know what I'm going to do myself half the time, and yet. Well...it's not _ bad  _ per se, it's just a weird feeling. I keep getting reminded of it. Like this training sequence. I never expect it and it throws me off." 

 

Steve hums thoughtfully. That...makes sense. Steve's never really considered it from that perspective, but he supposes since Tony's thought processes haven't changed... "Huh. I...never really thought of it like that. I guess it must feel a lot like having amnesia, surrounded by faces that know you, but not the other way around." 

 

Tony gives him an unreadable look. “Yeah. It really is.” 

 

They arrive at the kitchen at that point, and Steve stares as he sees the Avengers engaged in a full-fledged water fight, barricades made, and weapons armed to the brim. 

 

Steve opens his mouth, fully intending to get them all back on track, but then it’s at that point that Bucky spots him and promptly chucks a cold water bottle at his head, dousing him entirely, which is pretty much a declaration of war. 

 

Steve can’t be responsible for his actions after that.

 

With a battle cry, Steve grabs a water bottle from the counter and throws himself into the fray, Tony following right behind, laughing. Heroes are born that afternoon, wars are won, kitchens are flooded, and Tony ends up winning the water fight because the bastard controls all the faucets. 

 

* * *

The weird depressed mood Steve had been in for the last couple of days dissipates a bit after that, soothed by Tony’s attempts to cheer him up in the training room booth and the subsequent water fight between everyone. 

 

Clean up had been horrid, and Steve never thought he would be trying to mop up about a billion gallons of water off the floor of a million-dollar kitchen (they don't have a drain okay) and Scott breaks a vacuum cleaner by attempting to use it to speed up the process, but incidents aside; it's cathartic, having fun with his teammates, and Steve finds himself smiling every time he remembers that Tony is partway responsible for his improved mood.

 

And then a day later, Tony decides to suddenly call Steve down to his workshop just as he’s stepping out of his bathroom after a shower, and Steve resolutely decides he’s retracting any gratitude he may have felt towards the AI because  _ shit, _ he almost jumps entirely out of his skin. 

 

He can imagine having a half-naked conversation with someone in a grand total of two situations, and neither of them happens to apply to him at the moment, so excuse him if he's a little surprised. 

“ _ Fuck you _ .” is all Steve says, leaning against the doorframe with a hand still clasped over his chest, heartbeat loud in his ears over the peals of Tony’s laughter. Breathe Steve. Draw in the air. Oxygen is needed. “Seriously. I hope one of the Avengers accidentally uses the Iron Man gauntlet as a toilet brush or something.”

 

“Awww come on Rogers, don’t be like that.” Tony purrs over the speakers, his voice still infused with gleeful laughter. “I’ve got a little present for you if you’ll come down to the workshop.” 

 

Steve pauses, thrown off slightly by the flirtatious tone, but then settles on rolling his eyes and quickly grabbing some clothes. He supposes he should feel a bit weirded out that AI Tony can see him changing, but he’s kind of lost all semblance of shame during the war. 

 

That and the fact that it’s kind of hard to have any privacy living in close quarters with the Avengers for years. Superspies, Norse Gods, eccentric billionaires that own a tower and a Hulk have a tendency not to knock before entering. 

 

"Now, see," Steve says, hopping into a pair of jeans as he talks because pants are important. He ignores the disappointed sound that Tony makes. "I don't actually want to go to the workshop anymore because that was a very mean thing to do to a senior citizen." 

 

“You can’t just play the old card every-time it suits you.” Tony points out with a hint of a pout in his tone. Steve hides a smile as he reaches into his dresser for a shirt.  

 

“Let me have this. I spent seventy years as an icicle.” 

 

There’s an exasperated sigh when Steve plops down on his bed with a grin. 

 

“Steeeeeeeve. Workshop.” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Stevie.” 

 

“Nah.” Steve grins happily at the ceiling. 

 

“You are the worst.” 

 

“I know.” he says cheerily, still not budging an inch. After that scare, he feels like being uncooperative, at least for a little bit. Tony finally flickers in, looking amused and exasperated in equal measure. 

 

“Okay but seriously,” Tony says, waving a finger in Steve’s face. “I have something of the utmost importance to show you.”

 

“Wow, formal language. Is it life-changing?” 

 

“Revolutionary of course.” 

 

“ _ World _ -changing?” 

 

“Would be an understatement.” 

 

“Promises  _ promises _ .” Steve drawls, smirking up at Tony. “And will I come out of the ordeal a changed man?” Steve leans forward with a cheeky smile and flutters his eyelashes exaggeratedly up at Tony, who smirks. 

 

“Who exactly do you take me for? I’ll show you the world darling; shining, shimmering, splendid. You’ll be so awed you won’t even be able to walk straight once I’m through with you.” 

 

Steve purses his lips against a smile even as he feels a flush creep up his neck at the innuendo, tapping a finger on his chin. 

 

“Hmm. Pass.” and flops back onto the bed to Tony’s indignant spluttering, hiding his smile in the curve of his arm.  

 

He’ll cooperate eventually.

 

Eventually _. _

 

* * *

 

Steve walks into Tony’s lab ten minutes later, finally having given in after Tony had taken to make his stereo play “Anaconda” at top volume, and Steve had shouted his surrender over the sounds of Nicki Minaj rapping about the size of various genitalia. 

 

Steve might accept that modern music is like this, but lord knows if he understands it. 

 

Bruce, Scott, Hope and even Peter or Harley being in the lab is really nothing new, Steve reflects as he steps through the doors, but he stares in confusion when he sees Sam, Bucky, Wanda and Clint also crowded around one of the workbenches, Bruce talking to them as he taps through the different schematics. Steve stares at Tony in confusion, who's waiting on the other side of the lab and beckons him over.

 

“What’s going on?” he asks, and Tony rolls his eyes, waving a hand. “Team meeting, sort of. Bruce is explaining the tracking technology for Hydra because Sam was curious and the rest of them kind of tagged along."

 

“Oh.” Steve says quietly, and he can’t quite help the slight pang of hurt he feels that no one told him there was an impromptu team meeting. He’s not technically a part of the Avengers anymore but he could have been kept in the loop anyways. He  _ wants  _ to be kept in the loop.

 

Tony throws him an indecipherable look and then claps his hands. 

 

“Okay.” he says, distracting Steve from his mini spiral.  “Let’s get this show on the road,” and then he steers Steve to stand in front of one of the containment units Tony has in his lab. 

 

It's usually used to hold his suits - Steve knows, having seen all the Iron Man suits on display in one of these containers at one point or another - but this one seems slightly different, the glass in front of it completely dark and opaque. Tony seems charged full of manic energy now, a wide smile on his face as Steve puts his previous hurt to the side and turns to look at him questioningly. He can't help but smile back in response despite his dropped mood. How is anyone _ not _ supposed to in the face of that enthusiasm? Tony’s grin widens. 

 

"Shellhead?" Steve asks curiously when Tony doesn't explain immediately. He blinks and then jerks his head over to look at the containment unit. 

 

“Oh. Right. I made you something Rogers.” he says simply, waving a hand, and without any further fanfare, the glass of the unit slides back. Steve gapes, everything else falling to the background, not expecting what he sees. 

 

It’s the stealth suit. 

 

Well. It’s the stealth suit and also...not. 

 

The new uniform is a darker, richer navy, almost to the point of being black, and there’s a faint silver outline of the stars and stripes from the stealth suit printed on the chest, still beautifully made, but the symbol a lot subtler than it had been on the previous suit since it’s not filled in. 

 

There’s a helmet included as well, in the same shade as the rest of the uniform, the A for America missing, and instead replaced by three silver streaks on either side near the temples, a mirror of the design on the chest. It’s gorgeous. 

 

“You…” Steve breathes, still shocked. “You made me a...oh my  _ god _ .”

 

“Do you like it?” Tony asks tentatively and Steve looks over at him incredulously to see Tony looking uncertain, and Steve doesn’t understand because how could  _ anyone  _ be disappointed by  _ this _ ...just. Wow.

 

“ _ Like  _ it? This is  _ amazing  _ Tony, I - can I?” Steve reaches out a hand hesitantly, not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Steve won’t ever admit it, but the stealth suit had always been one of his favourites, the fit of it absolutely perfect, easily one of the most comfortable suits he had ever worn. Tough too, the less specialized weapons glancing off it instead of penetrating (of course it was all those things,  _ Tony  _ had designed it after all) and not too ridiculously gaudy to the point where Steve finds himself holding back a grimace when he sees himself in reflective surfaces. The fact that Tony had made another one for him… 

 

Tony scoffs. “Why do you think I called you down here? It’s  _ yours _ , Steve, try it on." 

 

Steve finds himself beaming almost giddily as he takes the uniform off the stand and heads quickly over to the bathroom at the back of the lab to change. He's not exactly a vain person - kind of hard to be when you spent most of your life looking like a strong wind could knock you over - but even he has to pause and stare at himself in the mirror for a bit, grinning. It fits like a dream, with a full range of motion, (Steve may or may not have backflipped off the counter to test it out. What? The bathroom is big enough for it) and it's so comfortable, like a second skin. The black boots fit perfectly as well, and the gloves are somehow thin enough that he doesn't lose any dexterity while remaining fully covered. Steve marvels at it all as he rubs a thumb over the tough material. 

 

He puts the helmet on last and makes his way out. Tony's there waiting for him still and lets out a low whistle as he steps past the doorway.

 

“So?” Tony asks, grinning. “What’s the verdict? Are you a changed man Rogers?” 

 

Steve laughs giddily as he smooths a hand over the uniform again. “Geez Tony, you really know how to impress a fella.” he says faintly.

 

Tony beams in response. “Glad to hear it, Winghead.” 

 

Steve pauses in his prodding of the uniform. “Winghead?” 

 

Tony taps at his temples as an explanation and Steve reaches up, barking out a laugh as his fingers smooth over the raised material of the silver streaks on his helmet. 

 

“Did you put this here  _ just _ so you could call me Winghead?” Steve asks, thoroughly charmed. His cheeks are starting to hurt from how wide he’s smiling.

 

Tony shrugs loosely, looking away. “Might’ve been one of the reasons. There are other reasons as well.” Tony clears his throat. “They are numerous and very important.” 

 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “And what were the other ones?” 

 

Tony holds out his hands in the form of a picture frame, squinting through it at Steve like a photographer might. “Aesthetic of course.” 

 

Steve laughs. “Oh geez.” 

 

“Also revenge,” Tony concedes walking forward, “for calling me  _ Shell _ head. It’s not a shell Steve, it’s called a  _ helmet. _ ” 

 

“Shellhead.” 

 

“Ugh.”

 

“I’m not gonna stop.” 

 

“Hence the new nickname I got for you.” Tony replies succinctly and then smiles innocently up at Steve, who rolls his eyes. He looks back down at the uniform. 

 

“Just... _ thank _ you.” Steve whispers, smiling down at his hands. Tony clears his throat and waves him off.

 

“Alright alright, enough niceties. I did call you down here for a reason. Give me a spin, gotta see if the uniform is a good fit and run some tests.” 

 

Steve gives him a sceptical look. "And I need to spin for this...why?" Steve asks, even as he follows the instructions. 

 

"Wait! Stop right there." Tony says suddenly as Steve is one-third of the way through, and - thinking Tony has found a flaw - stops as directed. And waits. 

 

“ _ Shellhead _ ," Steve says exasperatedly when Tony does nothing but stand there and squint at his back. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony says breezily, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes as Steve turns back around, “just checking out the suit’s various...assets. Very important business, that.” 

 

“I’m sure.” Steve says wryly. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but I’m  _ hurt _ , Steve." Tony says, not looking remotely hurt. "I gotta run some diagnostics, make sure everything is in order…" Tony turns back to the screens, serious now as he trails off. The blue wash scans over Steve and recreates a holographic image of him over one of the tables. “I’ve got some equipment here you can use. If you’d step onto the treadmill over there…”

 

For the next twenty-five minutes, Steve does as Tony directs, doing flips and running and jumping and basically every movement there is, to see if the suit is working as needed, the blue wash constantly scanning for design flaws. At the fifteen-minute mark, Tony stops him after he had determined that the normal suit is fine. 

 

“There’s just one more thing that I added though,” Tony said hesitantly, and Steve had looked over, confused. “Tap the star on your chest twice. Press hard.” 

 

Steve had done as instructed, a little bit perplexed and then gaped as a layer of nanites immediately spread across the uniform, encasing the cloth with a layer of dark navy metal, the metallic sheen mesmerizing. 

 

“You…” Steve had said, shocked as he trailed a finger over the nanite layer. 

 

“It’s different from the stuff from the bleeding edge armour, or the ones in Peter’s suit. The device is coded to your fingerprint,” Tony had said, looking uncertain once again, "It doesn't have any of the web-shooters of course or the repulsor technology...this is more of an armour since I know you like it more old fashioned so. It's meant to protect you in an emergency, like if the Hydra incident ever were to happen again. If you ever need an extra layer of armour or even a full mask, well...this will do it." 

 

“Tony I-I -” Steve’s stuttering as he pokes at the nanite layer, completely bewildered and feeling  _ way  _ too much now, a rush of confusion and gratitude flooding his chest, overwhelmed, but can you  _ blame  _ him? “...there are no words.” Tony had. Steve doesn’t know how to  _ react _ . “I -  _ thank you. _ ” 

 

Tony had waved him off, instead of answering, tapping furiously at his schematics, and since any further attempts from Steve express his gratitude are similarly brushed off, they had gone back to testing the armour with the added nanites for the last ten minutes. 

 

“Aaaand I think we’re good.” Tony says, waving a hand through the diagnostic report to dismiss it. 

 

“You sure?” Steve asks, amused. He’s not remotely tired of course, but the last few tests were for checking agility, and Steve must admit he feels remarkably like a dancing monkey. “I can jump through some flaming hoops too if you want?” 

 

“Careful, or I might take you up on that offer.” Tony smirks, nodding at the rest of the Avengers when they walk over to stand next to him, Clint sitting down on one of the counters, and Peter alighting on the ceiling because the corner of the lab is getting crowded. Steve frowns, slightly confused at why they’re all suddenly over here. 

 

“Whoaaa, cool suit Steve,” Peter says, with a grin, and Steve tilts his head back to return the smile.  

 

“Looking good,” Bruce agrees, leaning back against one of the reinforced tables. 

 

“Just like old times,” Sam comments, and there’s a gleam in his eye that Steve doesn’t entirely trust. He squints at the lot of them, thoroughly suspicious now.

 

“Thanks,” he says slowly. “It’s amazing.”

 

“Pretty great job, if I do say so myself.” Bruce smiles. “So…” he clears his throat uncomfortably, “Does this mean...you’ll officially be a part of the team again?” 

 

Steve blinks at the sudden change in subject, completely blindsided. How had Bruce jumped to that conclusion? It’s a new uniform, not - 

 

Okay yeah. Steve can see how this ties in as he looks between everyone and Tony - standing a bit to the side - who are all watching him expectantly. A uniform isn’t anything new. But you don’t make a specialized and custom uniform for someone still in retirement. Are they saying -?

 

“You said you miss it, Winghead.” Tony prompts quietly, brown eyes wide and worried as he watches for his reaction, and Steve can’t deny the abrupt flood of warmth that those words cause. Tony had listened to him. Tony had...done all this for him and it’s only been. God what,  _ two _ days? How long had he worked on it to get it ready? 

 

Steve feels too warm, abrupt affection welling up in his chest for the AI, for his  _ team _ , who are such  _ little shits _ and let him think for the past forty minutes that he was purposely being excluded because they are horrible _ , horrible  _ people, and Tony fucking went along with it, and Tony had listened to what Steve had said even though it was a throwaway comment, had made a uniform for him, had mentioned it to the rest of the Avengers, who are standing there still watching him expectantly because they had asked him to be an official part of the team again, and Steve’s supposed to answer isn’t he, but he can’t quite make himself speak -

 

"Winghead?" Tony asks again when Steve doesn't say anything. He knows at this point he's probably just staring at all of them blankly. But he doesn't really care. Let them wallow in uncertainty as Steve takes just a couple minutes to sort out these overwhelming emotions and makes sure he doesn't start sobbing. Don't judge him, he's had a rough couple of days.

 

Tony clears his throat awkwardly, looking well and truly worried now. “Um. Just give a heads up if you’re gonna start with the manly tears Rogers, I need a second to prepare myself.” A pause and then. “Steve? Steve, dear God did we  _ break  _ you?” 

 

"I'm not gonna cry." Steve finally protests hoarsely, and then clears his throat. None of the Avengers look convinced. "I hate you all." he says tearily instead because at least with that statement he has a shot at making them believe him. 

 

“Aww, Steve.” Wanda says, as if he had said something very sweet, which he had  _ not _ , thank you very much, he feels like he should still be somewhat mad on principle, but then he’s getting pulled into a group hug, and he gives it up as a lost cause. It’s not remotely comfortable, Bucky’s metal arm is rather unforgiving, and Steve’s being jabbed in the ribs by the Iron Man armour because that’s the only way Tony can join in on the hug, but he doesn’t particularly care; Steve hadn’t even realized he needed this. 

 

“You sneaks.” Steve says, a minute into the group hug, voice muffled from where it’s buried in Bruce’s gigantic shoulder. “You played me.” 

 

Scott shrugs. “Nah.” 

 

“Not really,” Hope continues, and that’s apparently the unspoken cue to let go, all of them stepping back.

 

“ _ Yes  _ really,” Steve insists at them with a laugh. 

 

Sam shrugged. “Yeah okay. But honestly, we all wanted to ask you to return to the team anyways. You already do so much around here, we can’t really imagine the Avengers functioning smoothly without you, but none of us wanted to bring it up because well, you seemed happy retired.” Sam grins. “And we figured after all the shit you’ve been through, leaving you to live a normal life is the least we could do.” 

 

Bucky slings an arm around Steve’s shoulder and ruffles his hair. “But  _ then _ Tin Can here hinted that you might’ve missed how it was before, and the rest is history.” 

 

Steve looks over at Tony who shrugs at him apologetically.  

 

“So?” Sam asks. “What’s the verdict?” 

 

"Yes," Steve says, and then beams. 

* * *

 

 

“So,” Tony breaks the comfortable silence that his workshop had descended into, Steve situated at an unused lab bench as he watches Tony work. The rest of the Avengers had filed out soon after their planned ambush, but Tony had asked him to stay behind, citing that he was adding some features to Steve’s staff and would need him here to test as he goes. So far Steve’s only sat there and done a whole lot of nothing, but he doesn’t mind because he gets to spend time with Tony this way. 

 

“Got a code name you’re considering now that you’re out of retirement again?”

 

Steve hums as he thinks it over. He doesn’t have any particular specialized abilities, like a lot of current superheroes are wont to name themselves with. He’s just. Um. Enhanced. There aren’t a lot of names one can spin out with  _ that _ , at least not any that don’t sound plain stupid. 

 

“Superman?” Tony suggests with a smirk and Steve wrinkles his nose. 

 

"Wrong all-American hero. Pretty sure that's copyrighted." He counters, laughing. "Plus, I'm not an alien susceptible to kryptonite; if we're going to go there, Carol would probably fit the bill better." 

 

“Nah,” Tony snickers. “She would be Supergirl obviously, one  _ Kara  _ Danvers.” 

 

Steve blinks in surprise. “Wait that’s  _ actually _ Supergirl’s name?” 

 

“Yup, that’s  _ actually _ her name.” There’s a pause as Steve absorbs this information.

 

“Damn.” He says finally, laughing. “A little too much of a coincidence.” 

 

“Now comes the question of who came first though.” Tony hums, his voice light, “Kara or Carol?” 

 

Steve shakes his head fondly, as Tony turns away from his work to lean against the bench. 

 

"If you were part of DC you would be Batman." Steve points out, swinging his finger around to indicate the lab. Tony scrunches his face up in offence, which is way more adorable than it should be on someone who looks almost forty.

 

“I’m cooler than Bruce Wayne.” Tony protests. 

 

Steve shrugs. “More reckless maybe. 

 

"Lies."

 

"Tony, you once gave a terrorist your home address and dared him to go blow it up." Steve laughs, partly in exasperation. He hadn't received news of that until the Mandarin incident was almost over, currently on a mission at the time, but man had the situation almost gave him a heart attack.

 

"I did  _ what _ ?"

 

Steve shrugs. "Case in point."

 

"You have no proof of this." Tony counters.

 

"Oh yes, I do." Steve smirks. "Check the internet, you said this on the _ news _ ."

 

A pause, Tony presumably checking online. "Shit." he says after a couple of seconds, and Steve smiles smugly.

 

"Okay bad example, but does Bruce Wayne have a gold-titanium armour that flies? No, he does not. He has black spandex. My armour wins." Tony argues back, turning back to the staff.

 

Steve concedes that, because the armour is pretty extraordinary.

 

"How did we get on this topic?" Tony wonders and Steve shrugs, not entirely sure himself. "Right. Name. Pick one Winghead." and then pauses thoughtfully.

 

"No." Steve vetoes immediately, following Tony's train of thought.

 

"I didn't say anything!" Tony protests, grinning. Steve doesn't trust that innocent smile one bit.

 

"You didn't need to." Steve flicks one of the metal scraps across the table, aiming for one of the other metal pieces. "I am not calling myself  _ Winghead _ ."

 

"It would match your uniform."

 

"Vetoed."

 

"You're no fun," Tony pouts. Steve rolls his eyes, intending to retort, but then pauses as an idea occurs to him.

 

“What about Nomad?” Steve offers up, fiddling with another metal piece. The name wasn’t anything too ridiculous, and he already had that identity once before. It had worked for him pretty well, so there’s no reason it wouldn’t work out again. Besides, he’s pretty certain that most people already  _ knew _ he had been Nomad, regardless of the disguises and beard. It wasn’t exactly hard to guess, Steve hadn’t even changed his uniform, instead choosing just to rip off the stars and stripes. It would be easy to take up that identity again.

 

Steve re-surfaces from his thoughts to realize that the sounds of tinkering in the lab had stopped. He looks up from his hands to see Tony staring at his schematic, eyes unfocused. 

 

“Shellhead.” 

 

Tony blinks. “Nomad?” 

 

“Yeah.” Steve tilts his head, trying to catch Tony’s eyes. They’re still kind of unfocused. “It was the name people started calling me when I was on the run after the Superhero Registration Act. I didn’t stop going on missions so. That was my identity.” Steve looks down. “It wasn’t really a good time, and I prefer not going back to that, but. The name is still fine. What else would I be called? Supersoldier man?” Steve wrinkles his nose. 

 

There’s no audible reaction from Tony, and now Steve is growing slightly worried. 

 

“Tony?” 

 

He startles, finally looking over at Steve. “This was after our Civil War, right?”

 

Steve nods somberly. 

 

“Hey, so whatever happened to the burner phone?” Tony asks abruptly, deceptively light, and Steve stiffens, not expecting that barb; however unintentional it may have been on Tony’s part. Steve told him that he had given him a phone after he had explained their history but. He can’t have known that that was a sore spot. 

 

"Um. Well. I have no idea what happened to yours." Steve explains quietly. "I imagine it may have gotten destroyed or something but um. I still have mine. Fully charged." Steve stares down at the table. There is again no audible reaction, and this conversation is starting to feel a lot more one-sided so Steve looks up and is surprised to see Tony watching him with a shocked expression. 

 

“You _ kept it _ ?” 

 

Steve shrugs. "Yeah. I...had it with me for a long time. Shuri helped make me a phone case to keep it safe so I kept it on my person. It was just a habit towards the end. I didn't wanna risk missing your call." Steve swallows nervously, face burning at the admission as he tries to bore a hole through the table with his eyes. Tony continues to stare at him, his face inscrutable now.  

 

“I think Bruce had mine.” Tony offers quietly in return. “I dropped it by accident during the fight with the Squidward guy and I guess he found it. Thanos’ minions. I was about to call you and I dropped it because we got attacked.” 

 

Steve nods as the information slots into place. "That explains it. I almost had a heart attack when the phone started ringing and. Well." he laughs self-deprecatingly. "Don't tell Bruce I said this but...I was disappointed when I answered and it wasn't you. And then Bruce said that you were gone, and it got so much worse." 

 

There’s a lull in the conversation. 

 

“Hey, um. How did you know?” Steve asks curiously.

 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Know? Know what?” 

 

“About the phone thing. That Tony Stark handed it off.” 

 

“Oh.” Tony clears his throat, resuming his work. “Well. Bruce may have mentioned it to me.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

Tony nods, eyes a million miles away. “Yeah. After I came back.”

 

Steve tilts his head, a bit confused at the wording. Yeah, he guesses Tony did "come back" in a literal sense of the word, although Tony and Tony Stark are not technically the same person. "Was this after I told you about our history with the Civil War and the letter thing?" 

 

Tony frowns at Steve. “Yes. That’s what I meant. And then I asked Bruce because I was curious about what happened to the phone. Loose ends and all that.” 

 

Steve nods, wondering slightly at the stilted manner of Tony’s explanation. 

 

“So Nomad as a name?” Tony continues, and Steve puts it down to his imagination that he sees a flicker of sadness cross Tony’s face, in a blink and you miss it kind of way. “I like it.” 

 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, smiling tentatively. 

 

"Yeah. I mean a little inaccurate because you're no longer a wanderer. You have this place. And us." Tony says absently, eyes flicking over his blueprints, having no idea of the effect those words have on Steve, how the idea of having a home here makes him feel warm and content in an indescribable way, and gratitude; because Tony has given him more than he could ever hope for, more than anything he could have dreamed of, without even realizing it. The new uniform and staff are  _ amazing  _ of course, and nothing to sneeze at; but at the same time, Tony had given him something beyond that today, something infinitely more precious.

 

He doesn’t say that though, knowing it would just be brushed off.

 

"Well," Steve says instead, warmly, feeling affection swell in his chest, as sudden and hot as the embers of fire kindled. "It's just a code name. Doesn't have to be too accurate."

 

* * *

They don’t announce it to the media just yet, because all the major news stations are still in a tizzy over the Iron Man thing. 

 

So, for now, officially Steve is an Avenger; code name Nomad, and on public record, he's still a retired Avenger; previous code name Captain America. His days get a lot busier because the amount of meetings at Shield he has to attend seems to grow exponentially larger, and he actually has to get beaten up during team training as well now, instead of just sitting out on the sidelines. 

 

Steve couldn’t be happier if he’s going to be entirely honest. 

 

* * *

The day of the Stark Industries Memorial Gala comes hurtling towards them at an alarming rate, always a looming presence there at the back of Steve's mind in between all the meetings and the training and the whirlwind of everything else that's been happening, and finally Steve inexplicably finds himself having a brief panic session in his room the night before about the fact that he's going to be back in the public eye for more than just a fifteen-minute conference session. 

 

What does he say? How does he act? What if he messes up? What happens if someone asks him to  _ dance _ ???

 

That last thought is enough to give Steve hives.

 

He eventually decides after pacing a hole in his bedroom floor that panicking in his room isn't currently doing him any good and removes himself to go panic in the kitchen, where he can do it with the presence of junk food. 

 

Steve pads quietly through the dark hallways, everyone else already asleep or retired to their rooms. He heads straight for the cupboards after he flicks on the lights. There’s a box of that sugary cereal that Sam loves so much here somewhere, and he’s not above stealing it so that he can panic with comfort food. 

 

Steve finally locates it, and then just hops onto the counter and starts eating the marshmallow cereal straight out of the box, and resumes his panicking right where he left off. He’s in the middle of considering if he should just eat this out of a bowl instead of what he’s doing right now when Tony suddenly flashes into existence in front of him. 

 

“Steve?” Tony looks very confused. Steve waves, mouth currently full of cereal. Tony’s eyes flicker over him, taking in the ratty sweatpants and old shirt, and how he’s currently sitting on a kitchen counter scarfing breakfast cereal at two in the morning. 

 

“What?” Tony asks waving helplessly. “Just. What?” 

 

“I’m eating cereal.” Is all Steve offers. 

 

“I see that.” Tony frowns. “Why are you eating Sam’s cereal, Winghead?” 

 

Steve sighs, setting down the box beside him on the counter. “Tomorrow’s the Stark Memorial Gala.” 

 

“Ah.” Tony nods in understanding. Then he snorts. “So being nervous makes you into a cereal thief eh Rogers?” 

 

Steve glares at Tony’s amused and unrepentant grin. And then he sighs, slumping against the cupboards and puts his face in his hands, rubbing agitatedly. 

 

“What the hell am I doing?” he groans, “I’m sorry for bothering you Tony, I’ll go back to my room and try to sleep...or something - ” and Tony makes a noise of surprise. 

 

"Whoa there Mr Hasty, this isn't an accusation, and you're not bothering me. I'm choosing to find you. I started the conversation. See how that logic works?" 

 

Steve raises his head with the single-minded purpose of rolling his eyes where Tony can see it and then promptly facepalms again. 

 

“Rude.” 

 

Steve grunts. 

 

"Look, what's the big deal?" Tony finally asks when Steve makes it clear that a grunt is the only answer he's going to give. "From what I understand of it, you guys used to do stuff like this all the time in the beginning." 

 

"I dunno, I guess, it's just been a long time," Steve replies, grimacing. "I panicked at the first event I went to as well. And this is a Memorial Gala. For  _ Tony _ . I don’t wanna mess anything up. People expect certain things from the Avengers, especially since he was our teammate, and they might ask and I sure as hell don’t wanna talk about it, and I’m going to mess up  _ something,  _ and Pepper worked so hard on the event, and I don’t even know how to  _ dance _ for heaven’s sake -”

 

“Whoa, whoa, calm down.” Tony waves his hand around as Steve’s breathing grows sharper. His eyes are concerned as he leans forward to catch Steve’s eyes. “You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. It’s not the end of the world if you mess up.” 

 

Steve knows he probably looks unconvinced. 

 

“One thing at a time then.” Tony nods to himself, straightening up. “So. You don’t know how to dance.” 

 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You sound like my PSA’s.” 

 

Tony sighs. “Do you want my help or not?” 

 

Steve raises his hands in surrender with a small smile and then gestures for Tony to continue. 

 

“If that’s one of your worries we can solve that one right now. Stand up.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Stand up. I’m going to teach you how to dance.” 

 

Steve stares. “I’m pretty sure this is not ‘club dancing’, I can’t just do it alone.”

 

“You’re not alone, clearly  _ I’m _ here.” 

 

“You’re a hologram.” 

 

“That’s not gonna be an issue.”

 

Steve stares some more, not following. “I draw the line at dancing with a weaponized suit of armour Tony.” 

 

“Oh my  _ god, _ ” Tony’s laughing now. “Just  _ stand up _ , you stubborn  _ mule. _ You’re making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

 

Steve obliges, curious despite himself. As he does, the floor of the kitchen lights up, blue footprints projected onto the tiled floor, soft music filtering in through the speakers. It’s pretty amazing sometimes - Steve can’t help but think as his eyes trace over the order and speed that the footsteps are flashing across the floor - the things that Tony can do. 

 

"Just go where you're told to go, Steve," Tony says, smiling. 

 

Steve stares at him, and then shrugs, directing his attention back to the floor. He's got nothing better to do anyway, so he grins and slowly starts walking himself through the steps, concentrating on the order and speed of which to go, matching to the music. He worries his lip in concentration after he messes up once or twice, but refinds his footing quick enough, the steps becoming slowly easier. After a while though, he starts to notice a problem. 

 

“Tony, what do I do with my arms?” Steve asks awkwardly, stopping. 

 

“Hmm?” Tony blinks, seemingly snapping out of a daze, eyes on Steve’s face. “Oh yeah. That.” He furrows his brow, thinking, and then shrugs. “Lift them up like you would if you had a dance partner. One around the waist and one clasping someone’s hand.” Steve does as directed and waits a bit awkwardly as Tony tells him to move his hands up or down to get them in the right position. 

 

“Great.” he finally says cheerily, and then steps forward to place himself where Steve’s hands are, the hologram shimmering where he makes contact. 

 

“Tony.” Steve sighs. 

 

“Steve.” Tony grins back. “Come on, just don’t move your hands so it looks like you’re skewering me and we’ll be fine. Besides, this way you know where exactly to keep your arms, instead of just dancing with thin air.” 

 

Tony places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and the other in Steve’s other hand, and reluctantly, Steve starts up again, slowly, before moving quicker when Tony easily matches him, step for step. 

 

It’s somehow easier now that his hands aren’t just dangling awkwardly at his sides, and Steve’s not as self-conscious as he would be if he had just been dancing with his arms up, with nobody around. It works, shockingly. 

 

“So?” Tony asks quietly, the third time through. Steve doesn’t even have to look at the floor at this point, having memorized the steps, and stares down into warm brown eyes. 

 

“Hmm?” he responds absently. 

 

“Still nervous?” Tony smiles, overwhelmingly close, and Steve struggles not to blush at the illusion of proximity despite the lack of  _ actual _ proximity. He’s holding air, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way.

 

“A bit better.” Steve murmurs back, trying to ignore how intimate this actually feels, being this close, dancing to soft music filtering through speakers in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning. It feels fragile, this moment, and Steve struggles not to break it by fumbling or stopping. “I’m thinking less about messing up tomorrow and more about messing up right now.” 

 

Tony laughs softly, his grin radiant in response. “That’s the spirit.” 

 

"Yeah," Steve says, and they fall silent again, dancing into the early hours of the morning until the steps are imprinted in his mind, comforting and constant as a drumbeat.

 

* * *

The gala is held at a gigantic banquet hall that Stark Industries rents out for the night. 

 

Steve fidgets the entire way in the limo ride over, thoroughly uncomfortable in the steel grey suit Pepper had shoved at him to wear. The fabric is expensive and fine but even still, the collar is suffocating. All Steve wants to do is take it off and put on his sweats and t-shirt, where there's no chance that he'll throw a couple of thousand dollars down the drain if he accidentally spills something. 

 

His fellow Avengers don’t seem to be faring any better; Bucky is tugging at the sleeve over his metal arm, Sam is yanking agitatedly at his tie, Scott is sweating profusely, Wanda keeps adjusting her dress nervously, and Bruce had managed to duck out of the event on the account that he can barely fit in the limo; honestly the only people who seem remotely comfortable is Hope and Pepper, who is as polished and put together as always. Happy is up front playing chauffeur.

 

“Remember,” Pepper breaks the uncomfortable silence as they near their destination. “this is a memorial charity for Tony, so I’m going to need all of you to be on your best behaviour. This means no glaring, growling at guests, and or shooting any of them when they’re being annoying. Are we clear?” Pepper seems to specifically direct this last portion towards Sam and Bucky, who are wearing identical scowls. 

 

“Yes Pepper.” they all chorus, sounding not unlike obedient school children. Steve hides a grin at how disgruntled they all look. Granted, he’s also supremely uncomfortable at the moment, but them all being in the same boat makes it a bit better. Misery loves company after all.

 

“Oh yes. And smile.” Pepper prompts as they pull up to the front. “I know you all can do it. And no, baring your teeth does  _ not _ count.” 

 

There are already swarms of reporters standing at the ready to photograph the guests as they enter, and Steve can already feel his muscles tensing at the flashes of light. Tony always knew how to do this. Tony always knew exactly what to say, how to look, playing it up for the cameras, shielding all of them from the worst of it, practised in the art. Selfless as always in sacrificing his comfort for the sake of theirs. 

 

Steve had assumed Tony enjoyed the attention at the beginning of their acquaintance because he had always seemed to be at ease here; all relaxed and charming and wicked smiles with a drink in one hand and a pretty girl on his arm. It took a couple of years for Steve to see beneath the charm and bluster and realize that Tony got just as tense as the rest of them during these events. He was just a professional at hiding it. 

 

Steve plasters a USO grin on his face and forges onward, ignoring all the shouts and camera flashes, past the reporters into the blessedly quieter (although not by much) front atrium. 

 

Pepper shows them to their seats personally after that, hurrying off to take care of some other situation, and that’s the way the night begins. There are speeches from various Stark Industries board members, and other important people, but Steve has to admit he kind of zones out after the first five minutes. 

 

He's not particularly apologetic about it, distinctly remembering Tony repeatedly complaining about these same board members after coming back after a hard day of trying to gain their approval for a new invention or idea of his, back at the beginning. Pepper's speech is really the only one he listens to.

 

Dinner is served after that, Steve making polite small talk with the non-Avengers members sitting with them at the table. He’s calmer now that he's actually here, the entire situation not as suffocating as he thought it'd be, and he feels himself relaxing incrementally as he talks to people without any big disasters happening.

 

“You remind me of my grandson.” A sweet little old lady that smells overwhelmingly of lavender tells Steve ten minutes into the first course. She doesn’t seem to recognize who any of them are, which he finds kind of refreshing. “He tried to convince me once that the sex toy I found in his room was a flashlight. Not too bright, that one.” she says nodding knowingly. 

 

Steve aggressively plasters a smile onto his face and tries to ignore the fact that Bucky just choked on his wine trying to stifle a laugh.

 

“Is that so?” Steve asks, trying not to sound like he’s being strangled. 

 

Steve braves through the rest of the dinner after that, the old lady - apparently named Dorothy - regaling him with tales of her unfortunate grandchildren. Dinner finally, mercifully ends about an hour later and the gala begins in earnest as people get up to start mingling with one another, and the live band starts to play music for anyone who wishes to dance. 

 

Steve makes his escape then, as Dorothy totters off in the other direction, slightly tipsy from drinking one too many glasses of wine. She’s latched onto one of the other unsuspecting people at their table, so Steve isn’t too worried. 

 

In his hurry to escape, Steve has lost sight of the other Avengers, but he doesn’t mind too much, figuring that he’ll manage to find them later. It’s probably better not to create a big group at these kinds of events anyways. They become less approachable that way (not that Steve particularly  _ wants  _ to be approached).

 

Steve grabs a drink just to have something to do with his hands, and - despite the slight panic, he's only human - starts to tentatively make rounds, like he's seen Tony do so many different times, and how Pepper is currently doing now, charming and effortless. Steve thinks he does pretty well for himself actually, definitely not as professional as Pepper or as suave as Tony had been, and there are a couple awkward moments, but Steve covers for them passably, and overall avoids any disasters. It helps a lot that most people haven't forgotten about Thanos, and Steve receives a lot more heartfelt "thank you's" then he had expected, even from the rich socialites that Steve had remembered would look down their noses at him haughtily just a few years ago. 

 

It gets overwhelming after a while however, as the minutes draw on, so Steve decides to retreat for a bit to re-centre himself. Despite Tony's last-minute lessons, Steve avoids the dance floor entirely, skirting the edge and making his way towards the balconies. That seems like a pretty safe bet to avoid social interaction, and Steve wants some fresh air after the stuffiness of the banquet hall. 

 

He leans against the railing, the night air blessedly cool against his flushed skin and sighs in relief, thoughts quieting to nothing as he gazes outwards.

 

The banquet hall is gorgeous, with its polished and sleek floors and tasteful decor. The gardens the balcony overlooks even more so, with quaint cobblestone paths winding through lush flowers and greenery, lights strung up and twinkling. There's an artist's appreciation of the aesthetic in the back of his mind as he breathes in the cool air and stares blankly into the garden.

 

A couple of minutes later, Steve jumps slightly as his cell buzzes, unused to the feel of the vibration coming from his suit pocket. He fishes his phone out to see a text message. 

 

_ Hey, how’s the gala going? _

 

Steve frowns down at his phone, unsure who exactly is texting him. There’s not a lot of people who have his number, and most are Avengers who he has contacts for. After a moment of contemplation, he decides to write a reply. 

 

**_??_ **

 

_ Oop. Sorry forgot. It’s Tony. One mildly bored AI, at your service.  _

 

Steve grins down at his phone. 

 

**_Geez, give a guy some warning next time.  I thought I’d been hacked or something._ **

 

**_Gala is going okay. Kind of boring._ **

 

_ Hacking a Stark-phone? Blasphemy. Also, of course you’re bored if all you’re doing is hiding out on a drafty balcony. ;) _

 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up, and he looks around at his surroundings, a bit alarmed. Heaven forbid Tony fly here in his Iron Man armour because he can't think of any other plausible way he would have this information. And Steve wouldn't put it past him to do that.

 

**_Um. How do you know this?_ **

 

_ Chill big guy. Bruce told me. I’m working in the lab with him right now. _

 

**_And how exactly does Bruce know?_ **

 

_ Scott is currently panic texting him. It's pretty amusing actually, apparently, he had spilt wine on this really important businessman or something. I really hope it's Hammer. :)))) _

 

Steve chuckles slightly at the string of smiley faces Tony sent. Apparently, the AI has inherited Tony Stark's innate dislike for the cocky CEO.

 

**_Should I go help?_ **

 

_ Nah, the commotion is mostly over now from what I’ve heard.  _

 

**_Alright, I'll take your word for it._ **

 

_ Cool.  _

 

A couple seconds and then:

 

_ So you gonna put those dance moves I taught you to use anytime soon? ;) _

 

Steve glances absently back towards the ballroom, and wrinkles his nose a bit.

 

**_Nah, I think I’ll pass for now. Just needed a moment to myself before I rejoin. Small talk with strangers is...difficult._ **

 

There’s no reply for about a minute, so Steve figures it’s the end of the conversation and is about to put his phone away when it suddenly buzzes to life in his hands, indicating an incoming call. 

 

He answers. 

 

“Ton- I mean - uh - Anthony?” Steve stumbles, and then winces, eyes flicking to where guests are drifting past the open balcony doors. There's a dark-haired thirty-year old man deep in conversation with a woman facing away from him near one of the curtains, and another bigger cluster of people a bit farther away.  They're just out of earshot, and neither group seemed liable to pose a threat, but Steve eyes them warily anyways. Tony is still largely a secret; Iron Man isn’t of course, but the AI is. 

 

“Nice save, stud.” comes Tony’s amused voice in his ear, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

 

“Shut up. I’ve used up my talking quota for the day. If you wanted coherency, you should've messaged me in the limo."

 

"Ah, I see, Mr. Rogers is taking appointments now. Schedule in an hour of social interaction for me at five o'clock Susan."

 

"Susan?"

 

"Things are always funnier when you add a suburban white person name to the end of it, Steven."

 

"I feel like I should be offended."

 

"I dunno, should you be?  _ Steven _ ."

 

"Hmm. You're right, that  _ is  _ funny." Steve says flatly, even as his mouth curls into a grin. "Can you hear the mirth. I'm positively rolling."

 

" _ Rolling _ huh?" Tony purrs in response. "Now  _ there's  _ an image I can get on board with. If you know what I mean."

 

There's a pause.

 

"In case you didn't realize, that's an innuendo and I'm talking about se-"

 

"Oh my  _ God _ , I got it Shellhead." Steve cuts in, and now he's laughing, full out laughing helplessly as Tony continues rambling smugly in his ear. 

 

"-can't blame me okay, I don't know what's rattling around inside that 1940s brain of yours, I could mention BJ's and you'd probably think I'm talking about peanut butter and jelly or something-"

 

And Steve is giggling into his hand at this point, the laughter bubbling underneath his skin, punch drunk as he replies.

 

"Don't think either of us could preach." He says, dropping his voice to a soft murmur so no one can overhear what he's about to say next. "We've got one 90-year-old supersoldier having a conversation with a three week old AI."

 

There's a pause. 

 

"Steve, don't you  _ dare- _ "

 

"Y'know what, I don't think I'm comfortable having this conversation with a minor." He says smugly over the sound of Tony's protests.

 

"-you  _ jackass,  _ you actually said it, my intellectual age is  _ 40, _ I'm disowning you-"

 

"Back in my day, kids showed respect to their elders."

 

"-I hate you, I despise your soul right now, wow I don't think I've ever felt such seething rage for anyone in my entire life-"

 

"-well three weeks doesn't really say much for a life, I mean-"

 

Tony's indignant shriek at that sends Steve back into a fit of hysterics.

 

"Why do I talk to you, like ever?" Tony bemoans over the sound of Steve losing it. He buries his face in his hand to attempt to hide the laughter. He can't say it's working out too well. 

 

Steve doesn't particularly care though - even though giggling like a maniac at a public event probably doesn’t inspire a great image - because he feels  _ good _ . Feels good for the first time since this entire evening started, and he hadn't realized how much he needed this.

 

"Shellhead?" Steve says when he finally manages to calm down. He grins fondly at the sullen silence coming from the other end of the line.

 

"Aww is little ol’ me getting the silent treatment?"

 

Nothing. 

 

“C’mon Tones,” Steve lowers his voice as he says the nickname (better safe than sorry), allowing a little Brooklyn to slip in. Tony seems to like the accent, and Steve isn’t above exploiting that fact shamelessly. “y’know I didn’t mean it.”

 

Silence. Steve gets the distinct expression that Tony is sulking, and it makes him smile wider. 

 

"You acting like a two-year-old with a temper tantrum isn't helping your case by the way." Steve points out, voice teasing. "I bet you're pouting."

 

“Excuse me?” Comes Tony’s offended voice and Steve smirks. 

 

“I am not.  _ Pouting! _ ” He complains, “you can’t see me anyways, this is a  _ scowl,  _ you hear me, I have a very cutting facial expression right now, and it’s directed at  _ you _ mister, you better be quaking in your patriotic shoes.” 

 

“Mmmhmmm, whatever ya say Tones.” 

 

“That’s it, Bruce come on, back me up here,” 

 

“He is  _ totally  _ pouting.” Bruce’s voice confirms, fainter than Tony’s but still audible. Steve starts snickering again as Tony berates Bruce about the betrayal, and then settles in to listen, his laughter floating in his gut where it warms him, deep and intoxicating. 

 

Steve hangs up about thirty minutes later, reluctantly saying his goodbyes to Bruce and Tony since it’s probably not good form to ignore all the guests at the gala in favour of holing up on a balcony and taking a phone call. 

 

Steve leaves the safety of the cool night air and makes his way reluctantly back inside, tracking down Scott, Hope and Sam in a corner of the gigantic ballroom, Scott still looking panicked (it  _ wasn’t  _ Hammer apparently. Tony will be disappointed). Sam seems to have the situation under control though, so after a couple of minutes, Steve heads back into the fray, talking to a couple more people before he makes his way to the bar, intending to sit for a couple minutes. The night seems to be reaching a peak at this point, people now increasingly inebriated from the free-flowing drinks, more couples dancing than before. 

 

The bar isn't too crowded, since most guests are mingling, so Steve manages to find a seat easily, ordering the first thing he sees on the and sipping on it slowly. He doesn't know what he's drinking, but it's interesting. 

 

“Wow. Pretty adventurous one aren’t you?” A voice comes from beside him, and Steve turns to see a guy in his thirties addressing him. He’s tall, with olive skin and dark hair, wearing a bespoke suit. He looks very important and also...familiar? Where had he seen him before?

 

Steve plasters on a smile anyways, even as his mind tries to place this guy. “I guess so.” he replies, not exactly sure what to say, but is saved by his awkwardness when a small, surprised expression flickers across the stranger’s face.

 

"Oh." He says blankly. "You're Steve Rogers. Wow. I. Wow. I just made fun of Steve Rogers for his drink choice. Cool." and he plops down on the barstool next to Steve, a stunned expression on his face.

 

Steve laughs, genuinely this time, as he takes in the guy’s features more closely, having just glanced at him beforehand. He’s attractive, with high cheekbones, his features almost elven with how dainty they are.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve responds with a smile. “I'm kind of at a disadvantage though. Since you already seem to know who I am, could I get a name?”

 

“Cristen Garcia, businessman and CEO of Siren Tech.” The guy says, holding out a hand to shake. Steve takes it, blinking in surprise. 

 

So  _ that's  _ where he's from.  Steve's seen him a couple of times on TV before (Bruce seems to like hearing about new and upcoming companies, and Siren Tech is gaining steam rapidly), his brain apparently not placing the guy when he's in real life and not seen through a screen. Cristen laughs self-deprecatingly. "Also accidentally insults superheroes as a pastime," he continues, shaking his head after he lets go of Steve's hand. "I've actually been wanting to find you and thank you for all that you've done. Figures that I mess it up in the first few seconds."

 

Steve shrugs, smiling politely. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. It's very nice to meet you."

 

"It's nice to meet you too," Cristen returns amicably. "Although," he continues, eyes suddenly going half-lidded as he gives Steve a once-over. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you to be quite so  _ attractive _ in person."

 

Steve pauses in his sip of the drink, thrown off briefly at the sudden turn into flirtation.

 

He’s not really sure how to react. The situation isn't unpleasant really; the guy is attractive, exceedingly so actually; slim, muscular and tall with pretty features and a winning smile, and Steve likes him; as much as you can like a person that you've talked to for two seconds that is. He's long since made his peace with the fact that he seems inclined to bat for both teams anyways, so he's not against it at all, but at the same time, this is a memorial ball and Steve's not sure if this is appropriate.

 

"Back at you." Steve tries his best to give a neutral response that's still somewhat a compliment and mentally winces at what actually comes out of his mouth. Cristen doesn't seem to mind though, giving him a brilliant smile as he leans closer and starts an easy conversation.

 

Steve gets sucked into it despite himself, even though he planned to go make rounds in a couple of minutes because Cristen is pretty damn charming - smart with a quick wit - and talking with him is easy and fun, easier than it has been with anyone else here tonight anyway.

 

As the conversation progresses, he doesn't let up with the flirting either, leaning forward into Steve's space so he catches a whiff of expensive cologne, brushing a hand up his arm, or complimenting him, and Steve is pretty damn flustered and honestly he's...he's kind of tempted to take up what Cristen is clearly offering, despite himself. Because it's just been...a really long time. And Steve's only human.

 

The conversation winds down at some point, Steve's sides hurting a bit with how hard he's laughing as Cristen finishes up the story he was telling him about his university years and the stuff he and the rest of the engineering students would get up to.

 

"Um, so." Cristen finally says after a lull in the conversation. "I'm not exactly sure if I'm reading this correctly, but I've got a hotel room booked about two blocks away, and I was wondering if you would want to join me there to continue our... _ conversation _ ?"

 

He's very close now, and Steve can feel his hot breath across his lips, can smell his intoxicating cologne, is staring into dark intelligent eyes; and he can imagine saying yes so vividly, going back to a hotel room and  sliding his hands through brown hair, feeling another warm body against his, feeling well-groomed stubble as he leans forward to kiss him...

 

Steve freezes, suddenly rigid as a board, and Cristen, seemingly sensing this, pauses in surprise, leaning back a bit and tilting his head in question.

 

_ Cristen is clean-shaven _ , Steve thinks numbly.

 

He blinks, his thoughts suddenly terrifying clear, and no  _ no, _ oh god, he's choking on full-on panic now as it slams into him, because he hadn't been imagining  _ Cristen  _ in that fantasy, no, not at all, it hadn't been Cristen's eyes, or Cristen's voice or Cristen's hair -

 

"Steve?" Cristen's worried tones pulls Steve back from the edge of panic to the present and he focuses on his face with difficulty.

 

"I'm sorry." Steve says hoarsely, and he needs to leave, he needs to get out  _ right now _ . "I can't. I'm just. I'm so sorry."

 

And with that Steve turns tail and runs as fast as he can out of the ballroom, not looking back.

  
  


\---

  
  


Steve finally seeks his refuge in one of the many restrooms here, the place blessedly empty for the time being. He locks the door quickly just to be safe, panting as if he'd run a mile as leans against one of the sinks, splashing his face with cold water, to try and snap himself out of it.

 

It hadn't been Cristen he was imagining. It had been _ Tony _ .

 

It had been  _ Tony _ , with that wicked smile and mouth, pushing Steve up against a hotel wall, loosening his tie for him, kissing Steve within an inch of his life.

 

It had been  _ Tony  _ as Steve runs his hands through his hair, takes off his suit jacket, kissing down the column of his throat as he reaches up to start unbuttoning the shirt, to start unwrapping all that smooth tantalizing skin -

 

_ No _ .

 

Steve groans as he presses the palms of his hands to his closed eyes. He needs to stop thinking about this, because he can't, it's  _ Tony _ , Tony who's  _ dead _ and who had probably hated Steve's guts anyway and who was  _ happily _ married with a kid, and  _ Tony _ who's his teammate and is an AI, and is his _ friend _ , and deserves better than having Steve fantasizing about him in the bathroom of a fucking  _ memorial gala _ for him, in a way, and when the hell had Steve's life gotten so  _ fucked up _ -

 

Steve lowers his hands so he can stare at himself in the mirror; closing his eyes is seriously not helping with the Not Thinking About This part, because now that the floodgates have opened, Steve can't seem to stop, and he can see how wrecked he looks in the mirror, face flushed and eyes wild, can't help but think he looks insane.

 

It had been easy to detach himself from this when Tony was a hologram, when he couldn't feel the warmth of another body, didn't have to worry about accidental touches or proximity because Tony wasn't actually there physically, and Steve had liked looking at him of course, Steve had  _ always _ liked looking at him, Tony is  _ very _ attractive okay, but still, he was only there just in mind and it had been  _ easy _ then, but the encounter with Cristen seems to have awoken something, and Steve  _ can't. Stop. Imagining. It. _

 

He can't stop imagining how Tony might take him apart piece by piece with his mouth and hands, how he could make Steve writhe with the slightest caress, oversensitized and desperate, can't stop imagining what touching him in return would be like, having him spread out beneath him for the taking, all warm, soft skin, parted lips and tanned limbs, what noises he would make, what Steve could do to make him gasp and moan -

 

Steve whimpers, clutching at the sink with unsteady fingers. He's hard already just thinking about it, the feeling exceedingly uncomfortable in the stiff suit pants, and he feels so damned guilty, this is a memorial gala, and Tony is his friend,  _ what the fuck is wrong with him? _ It's positively  _ hellish _ .

 

And it's not just that, Steve thinks almost hysterically, because he knows, now that he thinks about it closely, knows that he would honestly be just as happy not doing any of that, and being able to just give Tony a hug, or to be able to hold him close without his hands going through thin air, be able to spend lazy days hanging out with him, lean against him as they watch a movie, Tony sleep mussed and warm, be able to swat at his arm when he's being a snarky little shit, be able to press a kiss to his soft dark hair when Tony's exhausted or sad or tired, be able to hold him up and be held in return, and Steve knows this goes beyond just lust, because lust is fucking easy to deal with, easy to ignore; lust goes away. But  _ this _ .

 

Steve laughs brokenly as his eyes blur.  _ Fuck. _

 

 Leave it up to him to fucking fall for an AI.

 

"Pathetic." Steve tells his reflection hoarsely because this is doomed from the start. Doomed before it can even  _ start _ to begin. Because Tony, the  _ real  _ Tony is dead and gone forever, and even if he wasn't, his heart belongs to Pepper, always has, and Steve could never begrudge them that happiness, knows that even if he was alive he could never feel the same way.

 

And Tony as Steve knows now is an artificial intelligence, something Bruce had explained to them very clearly from the start, a string of zeros and ones that cares because the designations  _ make _ him care, and who could never in a million years feel the same for Steve, could never in a million years  _ feel _ at all in the same way they do, and he goes and learns to want a machine anyways, Tony in all his brilliance and electric soul, and Steve wants him, by  _ god _ does he want.

 

Steve's erection is completely gone now, and he can't even be glad because he feels like he's one tap away from shattering into a million tiny pieces.

 

A public washroom is not the time to break down however, so Steve plonks himself down on the bathroom floor, leaning against a sidewall uncaring about the expensive suit he's in; the floor is clean anyways. His Irish skin shows signs of distress easily, so all he can really do now is wait for the panic and his flushed skin to subside and rejoin the party.

 

He doesn't want to go back out there. He wants to hide in this bathroom and never leave. He wants the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach to stop. He wants to somehow be able to teleport himself somewhere far away so he doesn't have to face this, doesn't have to face Tony with this realization. He can't though.

 

He sits there and waits. And then he’ll go back out there, make his excuses to Pepper and leave early, and hope to all the deities out there that he doesn’t fall apart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve you adorable, bisexual mess XDD
> 
> Y'all know I had to add in a DC reference because I'm honestly trash for both. Thank you all for reading! As always, comments literally give me life. :))))


	6. THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER

I'm so sorry for doing this to y'all, cause lord knows I hate it when I get a notification for a chapter and it turns out not to be one, but I didn't know how else to get this out to you guys XD. What can ya do?

Anyways, I'm just writing this to let you guys know that the story is currently undergoing re-writing. I still plan on seeing this through until the end, definitely, because I'm still in love with this idea, but I've realized after about three months of writer's block that I hadn't developed the plot enough before I started writing, and now I've written myself into a hole with no way to continue lmao. It's a learning process XD *shrugs*

There also have been a couple plot holes I noticed after some re-reads, some dialogue I'm not entirely on board with, and so overall, I intend to just do a huge editing session with all the previous chapters, re-write some points, figure out a proper full on timeline, all that good stuff, and start posting after I already have a lot of stuff written, instead of just scrambling to get things done and on schedule (a schedule which I have not kept to remotely btw XD). The overarching plot is gonna stay the same, but just the events and timelines and possible writing style/dialogues are gonna be changed and edited so that I can actually continue the story without huge issues lmao. 

When I start posting though, I'm considering just leaving this particular story as it is and just start an entirely new file for the edited fic, that way I can see the progress or what's different, or even if people wanted to see some of the old dialogues and plot. What do you guys think? Suggestions in the comments are always welcome!

Thanks to all of you guys for being so patient with me while I try to navigate writing lol. You guys are great. Stay awesome! :)


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